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Poem

Stands a beautiful tree firmly with its gracious branches and boughs 
On a bank of a running or on an edge of round pond 
May be it is on the skirt of triangular lake 
Natural or artificial 
Or it is in the middle of an esplanade 
It can grow anywhere,
 In the moon or in your orchard 
The place where it will grow is none of your business 
Just see its beauty and show thankfulness 
Feel its usefulness and express gratitude 
But here it is not my job to describe the charms of a tree 
Neither is it to make you understand how to appreciate delicacy or loveliness 
As other poets delightfully do in their handsome and alluring drabs  
That duty I left gladly long before for idiots 
As I got another work of other kinds
Another responsibility, another task of other types 
To split the beans and peel the skins 
To smooth the bones and puncture the balloon 
Wherever I find stupidity, nonsense and bloody foolishness 
In the middle of telling you these serious issues 
I see a spectacle of a donkey 
Near the valley among the green leaves 
In their words, in between their lips
At the tip of their tongues, at depth of your throats  
And below in the meadow in the bushes of shrubs and grasses  
A circus is run by the jokers and baboons 
The promoters and the patrons of the parade try hard 
To catch my precipitated attention and perpetuated concentration 
Baffled I remain and look at the sky before taking a sigh 
I decided not to give favourable response as wise men know 
This is neither my kind of monkey nor is this my kind of show.

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