Mom, teach me the joy of waiting,
'cause I don't have a birthing womb!
Dad, teach me to wait, until-
The four seasons, to sow!
Moon, tell me,
How to pass a day,
Without seeing my earth?
Baby, why don't you-
Hurry to be a man
But play your flute like Krishna?
My Love,
To wait for you,
Is like a river of wine,
Left in earth's womb,
To turn a divine concoction!
Is like the rare blue flower
Of the western ghats,
To bloom in twelve long years!
In waiting, me a painter,
Transforms to a saint,
Praying every stroke of brush,
With a divine ejaculation.
That I may create a canvas,
Full of celestial romance,
Until an Adam and Eve,
Lost in an Eastern Paradise!!
'cause I don't have a birthing womb!
Dad, teach me to wait, until-
The four seasons, to sow!
Moon, tell me,
How to pass a day,
Without seeing my earth?
Baby, why don't you-
Hurry to be a man
But play your flute like Krishna?
My Love,
To wait for you,
Is like a river of wine,
Left in earth's womb,
To turn a divine concoction!
Is like the rare blue flower
Of the western ghats,
To bloom in twelve long years!
In waiting, me a painter,
Transforms to a saint,
Praying every stroke of brush,
With a divine ejaculation.
That I may create a canvas,
Full of celestial romance,
Until an Adam and Eve,
Lost in an Eastern Paradise!!
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