Give me, O Lord <br />A few more songs. <br />My fire is dying, <br />Give me a spark. <br />At a very young age <br />I exhausted every sorrow. <br />For my youth <br />Give me a fresh pain. <br /> <br />Give me a song, like youth itself, <br />Beautiful, magical. <br />Like the redness of a rising day <br />That sparkles in a brimming lake. <br />Like the first star of the evening <br />That shines in a treeless desert. <br /> <br />Night is approaching my desert, <br />Give me a star or two, <br />Or let me sink, like the evening redness, <br />Into the brimming lake. <br /> <br />Lord, life is unbearable without a companion, <br />Unbearable without a song. <br />We all know that life has to be lived, <br />That pain has been sewn into it. <br />Do the deer drink the water <br />At every shore? <br />Let the water at my shore <br />Be washed away, undrunk. <br />Or take back the songs <br />That you let me write. <br /> <br />Lord, we should never extol beauty <br />Which is empty of fire, <br />Nor praise those eyes <br />Whose tears lack salt. <br />We should not sing a song bereft of pain, <br />Or write a word devoid of fragrance. <br />If my words are without fragrance <br />Tear them from the branch, <br />Or give me another song, <br />Like youth itself. <br /> <br />At a very young age <br />I exhausted every sorrow. <br />For my youth <br />Give me a fresh pain.<br /><br />Shiv Kumar Batalvi<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-borrowed-song/
