Sometimes I be a butterfly,
Try to fly to the bosom of the sky.
When the crimson of Gul Mohar
Pervades the lush green carpet,
A gusty gale disrupts.
The yellow sadness fancies.
Carrying a dirge I fly,
To the high up, even higher
To the rendezvous of earth and sky……
Sky, the other side of the agonies of life.
