Day by day, these untimely hours of mine are slipping away.
I spend mornings, evenings,
and nights just wondering—
Lost in idle chatter and the weight of doing nothing.
I never wanted to pass my beautiful mornings
In this restless toss
and turn of hope and despair.
I longed for a winter morning,
where beneath the Shiuli trees of the Chapa grove,
Two sparrows,
riding on a sweet breeze,
would whisper in my ear—
“Wake up, oh wake up! See how your night’s dreams
Are shimmering in the morning dew.”
Leaving behind a kingdom of sleep,
I would rise to find
Those elusive dreams of mine swaying gently in the morning mist.
Was this tiny wish of mine too much to ask?
In this vast, wide world,
I am but a speck, insignificant.
How much longer must I remain moored,
Like a boat tied to the riverbank?
Just as a madman knows no bounds of freedom,
And carries no lingering attachments—
I, too, wish for no ties,
only boundless liberty.
I am not even free in my own kingdom.
Now, I want to wage war—
Against my own self,
against society and my home,
Against all my incapacities,
the known and the unknown.
O my dreams,
grant me the strength and the courage to fight.
