Come to me, here in the sky of rain's paradise
Come to me, there in the beyond of joy and beauty
God never fails when I wish for you
In the jungle of serpents and crocodiles.

I forget you if you remember me in the ancient ruins
I remember you when you come to me in my days and nights
And go back taking my love with you and come back again to me.

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Whatever you do to praise your God
Whatever you say to pray in your love
I will see you bringing a bouquet of flowers
And paying sunshine for love in the vineyard.

I will not be there to see you cry
When the blind moon gives you the lasting kiss
And the sun sinks into the horizon, you never miss.

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Come down
Heavily
On the drop dead
Blue mountain
Up upon the seventh crest
The caressing sky
Whispering
In puffs of dizzy clouds
Meandering darkly
Through the moments of rain
Worldlessly as ever
Beating
In lapses of eternity
Of so many spangles
The leafy world
Listening
Chorus of lullaby
Symphony of windy breeze
Crying in bristles of thorns
At the foothill
Of the blue mountain
Submerged
In pressing rains
And spell-bounding grandeur
of the surrounding mist
Baring her sysmic breast
To root out the dust and ashes
Of the ascetic rains
Coming down
Heavily
On the dead drop
Blue mountain.

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A lofty mystery buries you
The mystery that leaves you no pains or pleasure
A distant orb revolves round your surroundings
All starry beauty becomes worldly delights
Yet you are wedded to your nothing self
As if you bear no resemblance to your disguise
A proud disharmony shatters your faith
You are just but a doll of fire clay in eternity
You are the helpless and hapless to your destiny
You do not know how to make cry at your god
Your mystery is a cover of your selfless soul
One day you will be denuded in your open space.

The vision of profundity resigns in glory
You stand back at the juncture of time and space
Filling your void unceremoniously for nothing
You fall at the feet of your golden stillness
Still you are the magnificent self of your own
Proclaiming your subjugation as your victory
Your mystery remains unsullied all along the way
As if you know nothing of your predicament.

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The language we speak
is the language of thunder
The visual language
abruptly bursts into
Cries of Protest.

The life - full of fire and fumes
Frustration is boiling
With threatening hissing
The life is on the verge of death
deep sighs groping longingly in the darkness
preparation for a due repulsement
is on-going.

The language we speak
is the language of thunder
Under the chiaroscuro of visual language
ding-dong goes the bell of the clock
knocking at the door :

The thunder of the spring is in the air
Insurrection is at the threshold
What is destined to happen should happen
The sky will burst asunder
Someday the seventh heaven
will come down
On the way to our door
And will speak the language we speak
visually in many spangles
on our terracotta floor.

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In the darkness of overcast cloud
The crescent moon rising on the mountain Sinai
Some messiah seated on a throne of silence
He preached the truth of love and cosmic soul.

He raised his arm in homage to mankind
He lifted the sword of injustice
And he cut through all the barriers of inhumanity.

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