While walking his way of seasons-months collected
His tiny fortune; it’s her gift only, their kinship
Like a lotus leaf immersed yet sober.
Every moment, every day/ night nourished on five feeds,
who lost his way, a son of soil broadcasts his fortune in
a jungle, in a desert, on a mirage of sensibility
with untiring hope walks the dervish disowned by destiny,
is forever in bloom the flame of the forest of the wild.
Remigius de Souza
(Translated from his original in Marathi by the author)
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