Sometimes by a solitary road, sometimes Along a dragging street, smart thoroughfare; With many a note of rhythms, tones, and rhymes, That I do sing my soul in light or dark bare. And my renditions haven't been heedful wandering Into forbidden wastelands, wilds, or graveyards; And no hissing, roaring, cooing, or chirping Of humans, animals, insects, and birds Has shaken my songs -- in mournful elegy, Or prayerful hymn, or exultative paean -- Though none have heard me yet or seen me Singing, inside my car -- a childless man Inside the vagabond van -- much sweeter home, Than mansion, that conceals my grief and gloom. -- N P Samal