Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Irreverent

The show must go on.
Under a sable cloud.
I am on the vast stage
to perform.

Tall cacti and harsh
dunes will not find
a sweet acacia.

When I am hungry
I would like to write something
very personal on a yellow paper.

The potter’s wheel will not
move today.
The potter had turned into clay.
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