In subway station
people going into the toilet complex
are so hazy,
enigmatic, distrubed, weird.
Agitated ponds, their faces are.
Many metropolitan sounds
murmur in their tired garments.
Each one is a river,
flowing into the toilet-ocean.
No sky may fall,
no burden of earth is on their shoulders,
no money-lenders may be chasing them,
and no cinema shooting happens there,
still they all rush.
Stop them and you get a slap for free.
But the same people
when they come from toilet
are like Buddhas.
Like they gave their old slippers to the poor boy on road
soft and kind.
Like they came from a wonderful art-of-life class
silent and nice.
Like they had found all the nirvana in a bathroom
peaceful and calm.
*23-08-2012
people going into the toilet complex
are so hazy,
enigmatic, distrubed, weird.
Agitated ponds, their faces are.
Many metropolitan sounds
murmur in their tired garments.
Each one is a river,
flowing into the toilet-ocean.
No sky may fall,
no burden of earth is on their shoulders,
no money-lenders may be chasing them,
and no cinema shooting happens there,
still they all rush.
Stop them and you get a slap for free.
But the same people
when they come from toilet
are like Buddhas.
Like they gave their old slippers to the poor boy on road
soft and kind.
Like they came from a wonderful art-of-life class
silent and nice.
Like they had found all the nirvana in a bathroom
peaceful and calm.
*23-08-2012
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