Once in a gloomy narrow path
I met a poet coming from a land
Where there was no sorrow.
Enthralled in joyful reverberation,
Not worried for the morrow.
Beheld in his heart the symphony
Of the land and in his eyes,
Spreading the ambit of goodness.
Perplexed ! stood I by the side,
Spoke to him in a tender voice -
"O harbinger of joy; tell me,
Where is the land of joyful glee?
Where there is no sorrow and
Where is the land of spree.
Spelled out in a delighted voice,
The man from the Land of Joy.
"Passing by the Kilimanjaro
Is the isle where is the Land of Joy.
But none fury like him and
None blaze neither annoy.
Hearts of kindness, all in the wilderness
All entailed in a state of whim.
And in the grassy green enclaves,
There is vine, there is vine.
But lo ! No one claims - it is mine.
Cared by all, shared by all
Sweet or sour, all is fine.
Desire not, bizarre none,
They play in the fancy isle.
Round the enclaves whirl a breeze
Spreading togetherness all the miles.
Together they work, together they play,
Together they dine, together they sleep.
So pompous hearts they have
And cadence of love for all.
Emanate elixir like tender sunshine
Beneath the blissful waterfall.
And into the land, embellished.
"Can I enter the Land of Joy?"
Asked I with a skeptical hope.
"Yes" jeered the poet profound,
Lest shed all your ego and prop.
Shed your hatred, fury and pride
With goodness in the heart established,
Surely can ride into the Land of Joy
Set I my strides with lovely jingle
The horses of goodness and kindness driving me,
Left aside all my prop, hatred and ego
I entered the land of joy and glee.
I entered the land of joy and glee.
©gbdash
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