Translations VIII

Here they come, one by one, races to be run.
Oh dear, so much work yet to be done.
The morrow uncertain, the future unplanned
But for now, I have a drink in my hand

In a while, I’ll go put pen to paper
I’ll think about the world too sometime later.
The mad rush, I know, is not far behind
But for now, I have a drink in my hand.

Who wants to die before a little living
Or worry about the big storm coming
Who is scared of the grim night lying ahead
When the evening is still aglow in red.

A little worn out by reality
I mixed in illusions to see some beauty.
A sip from my glass, a swig from my bottle
I feel much better though a bit I wobble

Dharmendra hitting the bottle in Seeta aur Geeta

 

 

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