Snoring
In the humming tunes of snoring,
I listened to untold legends;
Of heaped grains and grand deeds.
The night fills its granaries
With black darkness of a terrible harvest;
And I with sympathies
For men in general, In the gloom;
Drowning deep into sleepy depths.

The loving mothers silent; afraid of nights
And fathers too, daunted
Vacating the hours for rules
Of roaming spirits, from seminal years.
Owls rudely howl, possessing
The sacred surroundings and green trees.

I feel jealous, to avenge
The ugly trespassers of our holy abode.
From the far away hills, rises
Anonymous calls of angry ghosts;
Dying away gradually to moans.
In the dark hours, one becomes cynical;
Of the birth in a half-lighted earth.