Sleeping unto thee...

So wearied of the customary,

Mother I seek refuge in thee.

Now sing me, thine magic lullaby

and put me to a restful sleep.

When at the periphery of this monotony,

I’ll flee and fuse with the wind.

I’ll gust up to the Himalayas,

and bring some soothing chill

to this weary summer of Aravali hills.

I’ll muddle up with the Earth

to be its musky fragrance.

Daylong I’ll play in dirt,

and thou won’t even complain.

Then in the twilight I’ll whoosh in,

and put out your reading lantern.

Or might I join the monsoons,

and fall on thou with the rains…

To try and dispel all thy worries,

thereby placating all thy pains.

And then if I may feel languid,

I’ll just wake up to thee.

I’ll run off to the gardens

And make a mess of me.

You will scold me for my nuisances

and I’ll cry out loud in vain.

Then in the night, all weary and drowsy

I’ll come to thee again.

And again you’ll sing me a lullaby

and again I’ll fall asleep.