I am a small, pale and a very thin cloud
With my back almost brushing the blue sky
I remain barely visible even to the keenest eye
Yet rising from a pond, silent and peaceful makes me proud

As I carry bluer water I’ve remained aloof
From those huge clouds who rise from the sea to float-
And who by sheer size and not merit on the horizon bloat
Where as pond’s chastity allows me to touch earth’s blue roof

Little water that I carry is pure, clear
And forgiving that has quenched the thirst of all and one
Carries no screams as it has drowned none
Which I can use wisely as my conscious has nothing to fear

I am neither a painter’s delight who would reduce
Me to a canvass so that in a gallery I would find a place
And wait for a millionaire whose mansion I should grace-
Nor to write about me a poet I can ever seduce

The moon and the stars see themselves in this meek
Pond that knows neither a ripple nor a wave and is sweeter
Than honey for all in the jungle – The elf, the bird, the drumbeater!
And now to empty myself a lover couple hiding in some field I shall seek!