In the heavenly clouds...
With the cool breeze...
In your constant company, Dear Cuckoo
I breathe the freedom.
Harsh winds motivate...
Rains wash my guilt away...
For now, I live on my own
how-so-ever brief that might be.
The vast architechture below...
Is so tiny to my liberation...
Cyclic redundance world adopted
When independence, I have attained.
Demise, though, mine is decided...
My own sways I make...
In your constant company, Oh Cuckoo
Before death, my life I'll live.
(On the eve of Makar Shakraanti, where my city's skies are flooded with kites)
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