featherless wings

I born
with wings .
As little no feathers
to fly.

In dreams
I saw feathery wings
as white clouds.

but sprouted feathers
are plucked.

Still
I have wings
but how could fly
with  that
featherless wings.

silence and stillness

Silence of spring makes mad me ,
springs meant for melodies so.

Stillness of death most dreadful one,
tomb seems as an eternal cell so.

life and labour

Life is for leisure,
not for labor.
But without labor,
couldn't meet leisure.