Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Generously

Different hues were lit up.
A water drop falls on my lips.

I will ask the words
to traverse the circle of clouds
for cascading moon.

let the mob―
climb the mount of greed.
I am here on the earth,

to meet the flames
of thoughts and shades
of wounds.

There is hope and the
chains. I will receive
them in ecstasy.
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