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
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