<≪≪≪rubious Pearls≫≫≫≫
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Vipins Puthooran
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The love throbbed deep in his thoughtful mind,
Swung like a pomegranate fruit,
All the time by a strange wind
Of his own heart's drought.
As the lornsome man of his world;
Moved heavan and earth as long as he could,
To become her lovable gardener.
But the dreamy, drowsy-wanderer
With a face that was almost pale,
With a heart that was always in sail
Through his seas of dreams
In never ending shores
Always roamed around her vale,
To pluck the rubious pearls,
Of her heart with his dried lips
Because her heart was a pomegranate fruit.
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