The splendid beauty of this living world,
And its subtle moonlight glint wakes a mild-
Youth’s mind, whose colors are of pensive green,
And tranquil white to ink his visions keen. 1
How do I love to suffer, the quick breeze,
That quivers my heart, the most beauty be,
The untamed life that pains me to amaze;
For why I write in melancholy vibe. 2
Full of deep insight, the nature gives me
To write boldly without the temptation;
That lurks behind the draperies of fame,
And pause not I with wings of perception. 3
Oft times I write with my own blood in pain,
A quick release of freedom to express well,
The woes of past and present by views train;
While my fancies unbar from my soul’s hall.
Nithin purple 