1 ¶ Bless the LORD, O my soul. O LORD my God, thou art very great; thou art clothed with honour and majesty.
2 Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain:
3 Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh the clouds his chariot: who walketh upon the wings of the wind:
4 Who maketh his angels spirits; his ministers a flaming fire:
5 Who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be removed for ever.
6 Thou coveredst it with the deep as with a garment: the waters stood above the mountains.
7 At thy rebuke they fled; at the voice of thy thunder they hasted away.
8 They go up by the mountains; they go down by the valleys unto the place which thou hast founded for them.
9 Thou hast set a bound that they may not pass over; that they turn not again to cover the earth.
10 ¶ He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the hills.
11 They give drink to every beast of the field: the wild ***** quench their thirst.
12 By them shall the fowls of the heaven have their habitation, which sing among the branches.
13 He watereth the hills from his chambers: the earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy works.
14 He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man: that he may bring forth food out of the earth;
15 And wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and oil to make his face to shine, and bread which strengtheneth man's heart.
16 The trees of the LORD are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon, which he hath planted;
17 Where the birds make their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees are her house.
18 The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats; and the rocks for the conies.
19 ¶ He appointed the moon for seasons: the sun knoweth his going down.
20 Thou makest darkness, and it is night: wherein all the beasts of the forest do creep forth.
21 The young lions roar after their prey, and seek their meat from God.
22 The sun ariseth, they gather themselves together, and lay them down in their dens.
23 Man goeth forth unto his work and to his labour until the evening.
24 O LORD, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.
25 So is this great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts.
26 There go the ships: there is that leviathan, whom thou hast made to play therein.
27 These wait all upon thee; that thou mayest give them their meat in due season.
28 That thou givest them they gather: thou openest thine hand, they are filled with good.
29 Thou hidest thy face, they are troubled: thou takest away their breath, they die, and return to their dust.
30 Thou sendest forth thy spirit, they are created: and thou renewest the face of the earth.
31 ¶ The glory of the LORD shall endure for ever: the LORD shall rejoice in his works.
32 He looketh on the earth, and it trembleth: he toucheth the hills, and they smoke.
33 I will sing unto the LORD as long as I live: I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.
34 My meditation of him shall be sweet: I will be glad in the LORD.
35 Let the sinners be consumed out of the earth, and let the wicked be no more. Bless thou the LORD, O my soul. Praise ye the LORD.*

*~KJV~

THE PROLOGUE.

When that the Knight had thus his tale told
In all the rout was neither young nor old,
That he not said it was a noble story,
And worthy to be drawen to memory;                          recorded
And namely the gentles every one.          especially the gentlefolk
Our Host then laugh'd and swore, "So may I gon,                prosper
This goes aright; unbuckled is the mail;        the budget is opened
Let see now who shall tell another tale:
For truely this game is well begun.
Now telleth ye, Sir Monk, if that ye conne,                       *know
Somewhat, to quiten with the Knighte's tale."                    match
The Miller that fordrunken was all pale,
So that unnethes upon his horse he sat,                with difficulty
He would avalen neither hood nor hat,                          uncover
Nor abide no man for his courtesy,                         give way to
But in Pilate's voice he gan to cry,
And swore by armes, and by blood, and bones,
"I can a noble tale for the nones                            occasion,
With which I will now quite the Knighte's tale."                 match
Our Host saw well how drunk he was of ale,
And said; "Robin, abide, my leve brother,                         dear
Some better man shall tell us first another:
Abide, and let us worke thriftily."
By Godde's soul," quoth he, "that will not I,
For I will speak, or elles go my way!"
Our Host answer'd; "Tell on a devil way;             *devil take you!
Thou art a fool; thy wit is overcome."
"Now hearken," quoth the Miller, "all and some:
But first I make a protestatioun.
That I am drunk, I know it by my soun':
And therefore if that I misspeak or say,
Wite it the ale of Southwark, I you pray:             blame it on
For I will tell a legend and a life
Both of a carpenter and of his wife,
How that a clerk hath set the wrighte's cap."   fooled the carpenter
The Reeve answer'd and saide, "Stint thy clap,      hold your tongue
Let be thy lewed drunken harlotry.
It is a sin, and eke a great folly
To apeiren* any man, or him defame,                              injure
And eke to bringe wives in evil name.
Thou may'st enough of other thinges sayn."
This drunken Miller spake full soon again,
And saide, "Leve brother Osewold,
Who hath no wife, he is no cuckold.
But I say not therefore that thou art one;
There be full goode wives many one.
Why art thou angry with my tale now?
I have a wife, pardie, as well as thou,
Yet *n'old I, for the oxen in my plough,                  I would not
Taken upon me more than enough,
To deemen* of myself that I am one;                               judge
I will believe well that I am none.
An husband should not be inquisitive
Of Godde's privity, nor of his wife.
So he may finde Godde's foison there,                         treasure
Of the remnant needeth not to enquere."

What should I more say, but that this Millere
He would his wordes for no man forbear,
But told his churlish tale in his mannere;               boorish, rude
Me thinketh, that I shall rehearse it here.
And therefore every gentle wight I pray,
For Godde's love to deem not that I say
Of evil intent, but that I must rehearse
Their tales all, be they better or worse,
Or elles falsen some of my mattere.                            falsify
And therefore whoso list it not to hear,
Turn o'er the leaf, and choose another tale;
For he shall find enough, both great and smale,
Of storial thing that toucheth gentiless,             historical, true
And eke morality and holiness.
Blame not me, if that ye choose amiss.
The Miller is a churl, ye know well this,
So was the Reeve, with many other mo',
And harlotry they tolde bothe two.                        ribald tales
Avise you* now, and put me out of blame;                    be warned
And eke men should not make earnest of game.                 *jest, fun

Notes to the Prologue to the Miller's Tale

1. Pilate, an unpopular personage in the mystery-plays of the
middle ages, was probably represented as having a gruff, harsh
voice.

2. Wite: blame; in Scotland, "to bear the wyte," is to bear the
blame.

THE TALE.

Whilom there was dwelling in Oxenford
A riche gnof, that guestes held to board,   miser *took in boarders
And of his craft he was a carpenter.
With him there was dwelling a poor scholer,
Had learned art, but all his fantasy
Was turned for to learn astrology.
He coude* a certain of conclusions                                 knew
To deeme by interrogations,                                  determine
If that men asked him in certain hours,
When that men should have drought or elles show'rs:
Or if men asked him what shoulde fall
Of everything, I may not reckon all.

This clerk was called Hendy Nicholas;                 gentle, handsome
Of derne love he knew and of solace;                   secret, earnest
And therewith he was sly and full privy,
And like a maiden meek for to see.
A chamber had he in that hostelry
Alone, withouten any company,
Full *fetisly y-dight with herbes swoot,            neatly decorated
And he himself was sweet as is the root                           *sweet
Of liquorice, or any setewall.                                valerian
His Almagest, and bookes great and small,
His astrolabe,  belonging to his art,
His augrim stones, layed fair apart
On shelves couched at his bedde's head,                      laid, set
His press y-cover'd with a falding red.                   coarse cloth
And all above there lay a gay psalt'ry
On which he made at nightes melody,
So sweetely, that all the chamber rang:
And Angelus ad virginem he sang.
And after that he sung the kinge's note;
Full often blessed was his merry throat.
And thus this sweete clerk his time spent
After *his friendes finding and his rent.    Attending to his friends,
                                                   and providing for the
                                                    cost of his lodging
This carpenter had wedded new a wife,
Which that he loved more than his life:
Of eighteen year, I guess, she was of age.
Jealous he was, and held her narr'w in cage,
For she was wild and young, and he was old,
And deemed himself belike* a cuckold.                           perhaps
He knew not Cato, for his wit was rude,
That bade a man wed his similitude.
Men shoulde wedden after their estate,
For youth and eld are often at debate.                             age
But since that he was fallen in the snare,
He must endure (as other folk) his care.
Fair was this younge wife, and therewithal
As any weasel her body gent and small.                      slim, neat
A seint she weared, barred all of silk,                         girdle
A barm-cloth eke as white as morning milk                     apron
Upon her lendes, full of many a gore.                  ***** *plait
White was her smock, and broider'd all before,            robe or gown
And eke behind, on her collar about
Of coal-black silk, within and eke without.
The tapes of her white volupere                      head-kerchief
Were of the same suit of her collere;
Her fillet broad of silk, and set full high:
And sickerly* she had a likerous eye.          certainly *lascivious
Full small y-pulled were her browes two,
And they were bent, and black as any sloe.                      arched
She was well more blissful on to see           pleasant to look upon
Than is the newe perjenete* tree;                       young pear-tree
And softer than the wool is of a wether.
And by her girdle hung a purse of leather,
Tassel'd with silk, and *pearled with latoun.   set with brass pearls
In all this world to seeken up and down
There is no man so wise, that coude thenche            fancy, think of
So gay a popelot, or such a *****.                          puppet
Full brighter was the shining of her hue,
Than in the Tower the noble* forged new.                a gold coin
But of her song, it was as loud and yern,                  lively
As any swallow chittering on a bern.                              barn
Thereto she coulde skip, and make a game                 also *romp
As any kid or calf following his dame.
Her mouth was sweet as braket, or as methe                    mead
Or hoard of apples, laid in hay or heath.
Wincing* she was as is a jolly colt,                           skittish
Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt.
A brooch she bare upon her low collere,
As broad as is the boss of a bucklere.
Her shoon were laced on her legges high;
She was a primerole, a piggesnie ,                        primrose
For any lord t' have ligging in his bed,                         lying
Or yet for any good yeoman to wed.

Now, sir, and eft sir, so befell the case,                       again
That on a day this Hendy Nicholas
Fell with this younge wife to rage and play,       toy, play the rogue
While that her husband was at Oseney,
As clerkes be full subtle and full quaint.
And privily he caught her by the queint,                          ****
And said; "Y-wis, but if I have my will,                     assuredly
For *derne love of thee, leman, I spill."     for earnest love of thee
And helde her fast by the haunche bones,          my mistress, I perish
And saide "Leman, love me well at once,
Or I will dien, all so God me save."
And she sprang as a colt doth in the trave:
And with her head she writhed fast away,
And said; "I will not kiss thee, by my fay.                      faith
Why let be," quoth she,

On Turning her up in her Nest with the Plough

Wee, sleekit, cow’rin’, tim’rous beastie,
O what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I *** be laith to rin an’ chase thee
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
‘S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin’ wi’ the lave,
And never miss’t!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa’s the win’s are strewin’:
And naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin’
Baith snell an’ keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste
An’ weary winter comin’ fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till, crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.

That wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turned out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble
An’ cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft a-gley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promised joy.

Still thou art blest, compared wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, oh! I backward cast my e’e
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

i.

Through ourn year's
Through ourn year's;
Beyond death mine love.

ii.

When thing's
Get bad;
And day's get tough.

iii.

It's already been
(Thirty) twenty-four hours;
Happy one month anniversary, Filipino flower.

iv.

I looketh ahead
To eternity's bed;
With ourn plume's to toucheth, garbing ourn head's.

v.

How fortunate I am
O' how privileged I am;
To haveth mine queen, the one of mine dream's, a gem in hand.

(HAPPY 1st anniversary Queen Earl Jane nagley)



©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedication/ 30 day anniversary
©Lonesome poet's poetry

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I *** be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell -
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

Bless the Lord, O my soul.
O Lord my God, thou art
very great; thou art clothed with
honour and majesty.
2 Who coverest thyself with
light as with a garment: who
stretchest out the heavens like a
curtain:
3 Who layeth the beams of his
chambers in the waters: who
maketh the clouds his chariot:
who walketh upon the wings of
the wind:
4 Who maketh his angels
spirits; his ministers a flaming fire.
5 Who laid the foundations of
the earth, that it should not be
removed for ever.
6 Thou coveredst it with the
deep as with a garment: the
waters stood above the
mountains.
7 At thy rebuke they fled; at the
voice of thy thunder they hasted
away.
8 They go up by the mountains;
they go down by the valleys unto
the place which thou hast
founded for them.
9 Thou hast set a bound that
they may not pass over; that they
turn not again to cover the earth.
10 He sendeth the springs unto
the valleys, which run among  the
hills.
11 They give drink to every
beast of the field: the wild *****
quench their thirst.
12 By them shall the fowls of
the heaven have their habitation,
which sing among the branches.
13 He watereth the hills from his
chambers: the earth is satisfied
with the fruit of thy works.
14 He causeth the grass to grow
for the cattle, and herb for the
service of man: that he may bring
forth food out of the earth;
15 And wine that maketh glad
the heart of man, and oil to make
his face to shine, and bread which
strengtheneth man's heart.
16 The trees of the Lord are full
of sap; the cedars of Leb'-a-non,
which he hath planted;
17 Where the birds make their
nests: as for the stork, the fir trees
are her house.
18 The high hills are a refuge for
the wild goats; and the rocks for
the conies.
19 He appointed the moon for
seasons: the sun knoweth his
going down.
20 Thou makest darkness, and
it is night: wherein all the beasts
of the forest do creep forth.
21 The young lions roar after
their prey, and seek their meat
from God.
22 The sun ariseth, they gather
themselves together, and lay them
down in their dens.
23 Man goeth forth unto his
work and to his labour until the
evening.
24 O Lord, how manifold are
thy works! in wisdom hast thou
made them all: the earth is full of
thy riches.
25 So is this great and wide sea,
wherein are things creeping
innumerable, both small and great
beasts.
26 There go the ships: there is
that leviathan, whom thou hast
made to play therein.
27 These wait all upon thee;
that thou mayest give them their
meat in due season.
28 That thou givest them they
gather: thou openest thine hand,
they are filled with good.
29 Thou hidest thy face, they are
troubled: thou takest away their
breath, they die, and return to
their dust.
30 Thou sendest forth thy
spirit, they are created: and thou
renewest the face of the earth.
31 The glory of the Lord shall
endure for ever: the Lord shall
rejoice in his works.
32 He looketh on the earth, and
it trembleth: he toucheth the
hills, and they smoke.
33 I will sing unto the Lord as
long as I live: I will sing praise
to my God while I have my
being.
34 My meditation of him shall
be sweet: I will be glad in the
Lord.
35 Let the sinners be consumed
out of the earth, and let the
wicked be no more. Bless thou the
Lord, O my soul. Praise ye the
Lord.

Tarry I shalt, for ye mine dame. Whither thy nature goest; To shalt I followeth by intuition. Onuppan the van Gogh atmosphere, shalt we be interlaced, I canst sense thy trail; A grail of a holy special place. We art not physically as one at the moment, but by mine death and beyond I shalt meeteth thee. Lord, I beseech ye to maketh a way for me and mine lass, to become as one, under the sun; in these time's of slow and fast. All do I giveth to be with her heavenly father; Mine blood, mine sight, mine hearing, mine life. Mine aorta befoldeth her red pulse; I am her lord, tis she is me. As tis I shalt waiteth to toucheth, kisseth,holdeth her whilst she sleepeth. Tarry I shalt; for ye mine Jane, mine soulmate, we art one. One in the same.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)

I perish daily for one to toucheth mine outer brawn
For to feel ones soul in collision with mine own
A melody of triumphant song...

I suffocate periodically to hybrid thirst
For I want to be rebirthed
In ones arms and eyes.....

Sweet child of mine,
Overwhelm me in overload sleep
Keepeth mine tongue between thy teeth
And grip me in thine soul

Release me in thy hold

And palm me
As god to and infant!!!!!!

Cometh close,
Not distant

Frozen blood o' thee lie,
I stareth thy te'rs crawleth,
Numb fingers o' thine,
De'd rose, soken wine,
Waitin' fo' the soul o' mine,
Tranquility ami'st us flasheth,
Melancholy too faces death,
Reminiscences t'en frozeth,
Whispers face silence,
Thy pouch, ink bleedeth,
Thy feather shrinketh,
Knees, the ground, no more toucheth,
Thy body, und'r my roof, freezeth,
My soul, fr'm thy body, drifteth.

Mine sensory,
Is not as all the others......

I canst feeleth
Seeith
Heareth
Toucheth
Understandeth
Smelleth,
All the thing's that art invisible to the materialistic mammals!

As tis
If they didst haveth all mine senses
They wouldst runneth from fear.......

Mine sensory, not as other's.......

I canst feeleth
Seeith
Heareth
Toucheth
Understandeth
Smelleth,
                All the thing's that art invisible, to the wordly beast's.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

I misseth mine own loveth. I wisheth f'r h'r to beest in mine own arms. To has't the warmth of h'r corpse. H'r soft toucheth and coequal softer gazeth.

I.
On that divine-like hands and laps of thine, my grandmother, each moment I embraced the new learnings.

Well, in that tranquil Spring night when the wave of stars washed away my eyes, I cried for them to have in the small hands of mine. Since then, I learnt to cry.

In order to soothe my longing cry, thou hast sung me the rhyming lullaby and spreaded the formless form of smile on my face. Since then, I learnt to smile.

At that cooing rhythm of thy song; thou hast energetically swung me high and low in the air, whilst my body seems to have lost its weight so light. Since then, I learnt to get thrilled by the melody of song.

A feeling of overflowing on an edge of the wind has brought the word of excitement to my unawake mouth, ehh.. since then, I learnt to speak a word.

That morning, Aye, as I stood drunk with the golden dawn, the waves of my eyes swirled with the falling leave at the distant height. The very curiosity to catch hold of it has burnt my little heart. Since then, I learnt to curious about the things.

Slipping away from thy hand, I ran to catch the falling leaves. But O fie, I couldnst catch it! I followed its flight —but the wind took it farther away. My eyes couldnst reach to it anymore, as it gradually disappeared at invisible sight. Since then, I learnt to walk.


II.
I extend the words from that little heart of mine— and that's my deepest Adulation to thee, my beloved parents!

I know not how I've wandered upon the Mesh of age to reach this mile of oldness— nor dost I know how I've rushed on over the trouble obstacles I encountered each age.

Such little strange tale of mine evolved from thy ***** hands, my beloved parents!

In the kingly and queenly world of thine, I expanded on the rhythm of an ineffable joyance. I know not the bound— but surely I cherished the flower and its hidden honey thou hast bestowed upon me, from that holy adornment of thy hearts.

Thou hast attained all my childly cravings and worn a garland of smile to this sullen face of mine.

Thou hast taken care of me from all sorts of ailings. Thou hast given me the warm garments and never let my body ailed by the cold breeze in Winter and tanned by the barnstorming heat in Summer.

Mother, when the hunger ailed my stomach, I spelt out thy name and cried
In dissonant pitch.Thou hast given me a plate of rice. In the midst of night when the silence has spreaded its wings, the unrestrained thirst parched up my throat. I awoke thee— so thou hast given me a cup of water to quench my thirst.

Father, the most I must not forget about thee is thou hast shedded the endlessblood and sweat onto the earthly mud to give me this excess of life.

I'm grateful to both of thee, my beloved parents! Without both of thy presence,
I would not have made my life so far and so long.     

III.
Mother, I've cried out the mighty tears
For one thing— and that's the signet ring.

I cried all the days and all the nights for that. I
Even refused to take the meals thou

Hast given to me from thy motherly hand.
Thou hast bought me the little play toy—

But fie, couldn't bring the harmony to these dissonant eyes of mine! The tears

Unseemly overflowed on its expanding Despair. I was a small and innocent kid,

My mother, as I saw that signet ring Glitter bright on the man's finger, it took

My eyes' captive  away and made me
Oozed upon the mesh of longingness.

By then, I witnessed the tears in my eyes.
I knew not how to extinguish this burning

Agony of my heart— it seemed more Intense as the days passed. All of my

Energies lost to pale weakness. I seem To have had sleepless nights; tossing

And turning on the bed, overshadowed
By the ailing insomnia. I only wished to

Have it on one of my fingers, bright and Illuminating grace like a blue diamond.

It was thy love, at last, thou Hast given it to me on the final day

And cured the very tears of craving. I Heaved a sigh of relief since then.

IV.
Such a blessed land, have I ever taken my refuge!
Such a blessed land, is only my century-long home!

Thou art my home for the generation long, my beloved Motherland, how lovely thou art! Thou hast given me a fine place here to take a long and joyant abide.

It is my privilege to spend my life here, embracing the endless blessings of no bound thou hast bestowed upon me. The joy of course, I have cherished a fragrance of this very land, in  ineffable bound of pride.

All that is hush and composed mountains that weave the picturesque sight; all that is rich and benevolent water that evokes the sweet taste like that of honey; and all that is earthly and never-fading mud that upholdest the living beings. O, I never knew I was used to them! Such is my luck!

My life flowers bright here upon thy heavenly garden; and now I'm able to furnish the beauty of my own within and out like Camellia. I wish my life had no bound and all my body and limbs were immortal, I would heave infinite steps of age, century after century, turning olds into new...

All that thou hast dispensed to me doth not belong to me, but I took it as holy blessing. Thou hast given me all thy shelters and stood before me shameless and bare. In fact, thou hast protected me from all trouble obstacles of sorts, such is thy holy grace, My beloved motherland!


Such a blessed land, have I ever taken my refuge!
Such a blessed land, is only my century-long home!

I am deepened down into the bottomless pride, for I am born to this land of kingly harmony. It's thy pleasure that indeed, I should be grateful to thee, for thou hast  taken care of me till this age far. Such is my fortune!

What knowest others of thee? What knowest others the taste of that golden honey, so-thickly ebbs out of thy ***** heart that seems ineffable.

For me, thou art all that higher than the universe; and there's no above thee, such is thy strength! Thy love is an unattainable worth. I canst return thy love even though my life extend a hundred decades long.

It's indeed the sin to step upon the holy-like body of thine; but thou art receptive by nature, and such is thy holy grace; my beloved motherland, thou hast carried me these long years bearing all sorts of weariness.

Such a blessed land, have I ever taken my refuge!
Such a blessed land, is only my century-long home!

V.
Mother, the Emblem
of love.
A residence of the
eternal glory,
A supreme fragrance,
and the Utopian
             idealist,
Gifted
one strong
existentialist beneath
the
cosmology.

O, the incumbent
mother!
Thou art an antidote
                  to our
daily
miseries— and a
song to our
timeless euphoria.
We are blessed
under
thy cosmic arm.s

It is said that thou
hast attained
a realm of love—
the unattainable
             pinnacle
Where
we imbibe the
nectar of happiness.
Thou art
the eternal guardian,
A mirror-image to
                  celestial
soul
Where we art thy
shadows, the
shadows thou uphold'st.

Hiding tears behind
The eyelashes,
Putting a facade
of smile,
Thou equipped
Us with love
and care like the sun
nourishing
sunflowers.

O, the selfless
existence!
A remnant of the
pre-existed
              mother-
The
''Goddess Devi''
We are grateful
to thee,
For always taking
               care of us.
Without
thou,
my mother,
there is no concept
of Existence,
everything
is meaningless.
              
VI.
In this very fragrant and heavenly garden of thine, my noble king, I am one of the blooming flowers.
                      
Indeed, I had luck to be grown upon thy garden; and I never knew I would grow rich in fragrance, it's only the blessing thou hast bestowed upon me as a century-long gift.
                      
All that I am embracing is none other than the grace of light that showers richly from thy own kingly heart, and it knows no bounds.
                      
This small garden of thine, for which thou hast immense love, lies at one periphery of thy heart.
                        
Thou hast carried it against all the trouble storms and protected these long years. Each day, thou hast tirelessly worked to give the very harmony to this garden of thine.

That's how all the flowers have come to bloom of their own each, so bright and fragrant.

As the very petals of mine have touched upon  
Thy majestic hands, it gave me the endless birth of pride at heart.

How fortunate am I to be grown
Upon this garden of thine!

Each morning, I awaken not just to bloom  but to offer thee my fragrance in humble devotion, for thy timeless love and care.

VII.
At this age of thy oldness, my grandfather, as I touch upon thy supreme hands, these very intengible eyes of my heart break down in tears of adoration.

It's because of thy grandfatherly love and contributions I am offering the words to thee. Those words are of my heart and have been hidden and unslipped out on the edge of my lips to this very day.

Knowest thou the time before the break of vergin dawn....

Getting up early as 4 in the morning, walking upon the harsh meadow enshrouded by the thick dews, and getting the water from the distant away, bearing the cold touch of winter breeze.
Two jerkins full of water weighing thy hands heavy, no torch but walking under the grace of rich moonlight.

Ah, had it been today, I would've at least
helped thee carry one.

Boiling the water warm for our washing,
Cooking the rather-delicious breakfast for us, helping us wear the gho neat and clean, and reaching us all the way to the school on foot.

Ah, had it been today, I would've at least walked the school by myself.

Celebrating the pain of love within like a man of supremety, all the days tirelessly sweating and soaking in other's field, and earning the petty amount of ransom for our timely welfare and school stationaries.

Ah, had it been today, I would've at least worked by myself and taken care of my school needs.

Bearing the body heavy with tiredness, yet coming till the school entrance to get us. Wearing the torn jacket, folding the wounded arms tight, and waiting all alone at the gate thro' the passage of time, till the school hours over.

Ah, had it been today, I would've at least returned home by myself.

I wonder how thou hast passed half of thy life with us, my grandfather! Taking care of us all the days and all the nights
living in the small and ill- thatched camp wast challenging for thee.

It's by virtue of thy all-day and all-night presence, we've grown healthy and untroubled to this day.

 VIII.
In this fragile land
abides thy coy
footprints unwithered;
and it seems that the
          sweat thou
hast dropped
down, I would still find
there. I could recall thy
wounded hands healed
by the painful blisters.
Each day toiling in the
field; ploughing
beneath the scorching
sun, cutting down the
grass and feeding the
             herd of
cattle,
and walking towards
the moorish hill in
search of the firewood.
Alas!  No slippers on feet
yet enduring the harsh
sting of nettle.
Indeed, thou hast never
failed carrying out
thy duties. Thou hast
turned up each moment
wast special for thee.
In thine eyes I've grown
              this age.
I shared
my love and joy with
thee and simultaneously,
I learnt to carry
out all the external work
and withstand the
pain. Although I've
come across the
               endurance,
thy
continues guidance
has shaped my each
learning.
Thou hast made me a
master at rather
young age. I ought to
regard
thy fatherly
companionship
and
mastership. Today, I
could see change in
thee. The weight of
             years has
overshadowed
thy
wandering age but
the fire within, thou
keepest bright and
unfade in thy heart.
That's why I still see
                 thee
labouring
at this age— despite
thy oldness.
All that I'm living
today is because of
thy endless
hardwork
and tenacity.

 IX.

The only glory
heaven
that has ever
revealed to
my eyes is thee,
my dear
patria! How
could I forget thee            
In the
passage of time.

Thou art mine
friendly
companion and
all that infinite
memories,
I have in one store
of my heart
today, have bent
forth since my
childhood
alongsides thy
endless play,
my dear patria!
How could
   Forget thee in
the
passage of time!

I know, when the
time has held
my feet, I left thee in
speechless grief
for the
months long. But
surely I mourned
for that, as it
was my folly, my
dear patria!
How could I forget
thee in the
passage of time!

Over the steady
heave of months,
          the
uneasy flake
enshrouded the
terrains of
mine heart, often
troubling me to
weave upon
the mesh of time.
     Thy mystic
love now and then
ebbed my
being in silent
utterance.

All that pictures
gleamed before
      my eyes
were of the fragile
land where I reside,
the graceful
mountains and
gorges that often
     caught my
gaze, and the
buoyant dwellers.
Not only that,
the tastes of those
fruits and the
clean water have
haunted
my taste bud.

And now all of my
agonies have
settled calm, for I'm
back and
shalt lose myself
in thy majesty, my
dear patria! How
could I forget
thee in
the passage of time!


 X.
In thine sweet
farewell, my
beloved teachers,
my eyes burst
out the tears in
           silent
grief—
for our years of
flowery union
in the school have
faded with the
passage of time.

Our teacher-student
love was deeply
and utterly rooted
            under
the
substratum of
hearts. Unseen yet
surely a felt relish.
We enjoyed
the days through
learnings and
       experiences.
Together,
we rushed against
the stony
obstacles and
vicissitudes of life
and thrived
under the gracious
illumination
of education.
                            
Not only that, in
our unlawful
conducts were thee
the masters behind
to uphold our
immorality and
make us grow
with
               rich
ornaments
of discipline. Thou
hast well treated
us— indeed good
and humane as
               though
we
wert thine own
sons
and daughters.

Thou hast scolded
to us at our
undone homeworks
                 was
varily
right on our part,
I claim
that for otherwise
we wouldst not
have
         grown
and
reaped the sweet
fruit
of an academy.

Thus, we shall
regard thy
unwavering care
and mentorship
done to us in all
our stay in the
               school.
The
unrevealed
light of knowledge
thou hast
revealed in our
sky, shall guide
       us through
the
passage of our
lives. More
importantly, the
sweet fragrance
of love that
ever sweetened
our lives came
fom the garden
of thine own
            hearts,
and
'tis going to haunt
us here
on. I claim that.
        
With this, I pen
off and I wish
my verses would
                reach
to thee
someday. Fare
thee well to all
my kingly and
queenly teachers
          and it's
uneasy
at my heart to          
leave thy
kingdom on
its lonesome.

XI.
O monk, the
worthiness
of this long-sleeved,
wide and dark,
     saffroned
robe.
I, the byfarer, ever
walk
to thy lonely
temple to seek
blessings
from thee. Wouldst
thou lead me in?
       For I've
no sins nor scorns
in my heart. I've
withered
the hues of sins
and scorns to the
glanceless
colour.O monk,
     before
thou
leadest me in,
let me not forget to
bow
down my whole body
at  thy holy feet.
Thou on
the edge corner of
thine alter
hall givest me the
warm floor to
rest my body.
Thou takest out the
beads. Ready
for chanting
prayers and
   songs. O monk,
shall
I join thee or keep
my mouth
all shut and tight in
silent listening.
Ah, such is thee
          and thy
costless bliss, love,
and nobility are
divine
attributes that
I ever aspire to reach.
Thou offerest the
millions of butter
           lamps
for me and for all
kin beings around
and
across this din
world.
Ah, when I
    leave from
here,
let me not forget to
extend
my deepest
gratitude
alongsides holy
reverence.

XII.
It's thy mystic lamp that
casts its immortal light
of love in
our sky. It is our pride to adorn
our
lives with colourful ornaments
of happiness,—
woven in the garden of thy
heart. O noble Majesty! On
this small shore of the vast
sea, we
live in harmony of unity.
The fruits of joy reap
along our fields through
the keen song of thine love.
Thou art the divine
musician whose kingdom
rests upon the reed bed
of melody.
Sweet serenity abides
inside the halls of thine flute
and along the strings of harb.
These mortal lives dance,
synchronizing with thy play.
And our hearts
embrace the wings
of obeisance and touch upon
thy feet with utmost Love and devotion.

XIII.
It's my pride to adorn these crown jewels of flowers to my heart, woven along the gardens of my life.

O, love of my life! Thou hast shone through the mirrors of tears. Thou hast shone through the strange vales of fears. And thou hast shone through the dissonant melody of death's flute.

O, love of my life! I never knew that it was thee and thy love. When thou camest by the threshold of my door, I scorned thee. And when thou camest by myside and toucheth upon me, I cursed thee.

O, love of my life! Yet still thou left me not. Thou hast given me a vortex of strength at heart to break through and against all barriers that bound my way. Thou hast given myriad births to smile upon my face to withstand grief and anger that come by flood of mob deeds.

O, love of my life! I never
knew that it was all thy mystic gifts of fragrance came from
the flowers of thine own heart. When I realise today, ah, it was thee and its endless love. Now, the only assurance that bursts before my mouth is speech of gratitude— with love
and reverence, in return.

XIV.
Beloved motherland— I prithee, weep not when I part forever
from here, leaving thy beautiful land. A heaven-like garden,
graced by the thousand colours of
flowers and immortal ocean of fragrance with which, I would bathe my whole life with pride,—
for I shall never be back.

I may long to return to play upon thy cordial laps, yet I may not find
the way to reach there.
Therefore, I must pour out my gratitude from the well of my heart,— for thou wert there before me, dawn till dusk of my life, like a
rhythm of the flute.


Ah— when I first came into
thy world, I came with empty hands.
I came bare and naked, and knew not the shame. I knew
not who I trully was, when I saw myself in thy mirror.
I felt so lost
and so strange, when I had
nothing with me and none around me. Thus, the first air thou gavest me to breathe, was the
fragrance from thy own garden.


The first water thou gavest me
to put in,
was the milk from thy own breast that gave me the pleasure of wine. And the first refuge thou gavest me to take respite, were thy own laps.
I am fortunate to have been born in thy land of queenly love.
I doubt— how shall I leave from here, leaving thee all alone!

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I *** be laith to rin an' chase thee
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
What makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell -
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me;
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects dreaer!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

what if I’m waiting
for something that will never come,
what if I was not who I am,
what if I never questioned

what if I don’t want to look on prospects drear
what if I want to be the mouse, not man-
who only lets the present toucheth thee,
to not be a human
that guesses an’ fears.
What if I accept that
even the best laid schemes
gang aft agley,
that often my whimsical dreams
are to keep my actions at bay
tucked under my hat,
kept from leading me astray
because after all Burns said,
in proving foresight might be vain.

And maybe a humans life is what I was destined to get,
but I will not be stopped yet,
though plans may falter and not be met
I will keep here set
In my human form of pain and regret.

I loveth the way
thee behold at me,
i loveth the way
thee kisseth me,
i loveth the way
thee maketh me joyous,
i loveth the way
thee sayeth, "i loveth thee,"
i loveth the way
thee toucheth me,
i loveth yond
thou art with me,
and fain yond
thou art mineth