Abhey Gupta

Tag: Loneliness

  • Sleep

    In the arms of the night,
    in the shadow of darkness,
    in the wilderness of a new day,
    in the weakness of a lost one;
    in the grip of memories,
    in the vision of dreams —
    unstoppable, irresistible,
    I sleep alone, with my love.

  • Emptiness

    All over my hate and pain,
    it pushes me back, again and again;
    standing in the middle of an empty road,
    I realize my emptiness, in the worldly crowd…

    Way to way, with my endless hay,
    I realize I waste one more day;
    and with the lonely house,
    I find my emptiness…

    The silence of love and hate,
    I find my state in a stapled chase;
    stammering my life once again,
    I feel my emptiness, again…

    To the lonely road,
    to the endless bay,
    to the world of dreams,
    I live my emptiness, again.

  • Corner of Life

    I pass by morning again,
    to see myself walking down the same roads;
    some are with me, others lost in the past;
    you come and go — but I wait, in one corner of my life…

    There you come, as my beloved,
    hold my hand, and wish for nothing else;
    love yourself, and I love the world, and my desire — you;
    and holding myself in one corner of life, I wonder nothing else.

    And then comes the battle, and the loss;
    I run from you, and from your love;
    I watch you go, and come, and ruin my life;
    in one corner of my life, I regret, day after day…

    And with the morning now past,
    I hold one more desire, longing for one more;
    lost and lost, to wherever everyone has been —
    from one corner, I watch life go on, like this.

  • Hunger

    I look around through my doomed eyes:
    brighter than the sun, the night is now;
    I travel my memories once more,
    and find one child, waiting, counting,
    and another, counting on survival,
    who offers more happiness than mine.
    The city is filled with bulbs and sweets,
    and a melancholic mind, like mine.

    I open my arms to reach him,
    but the silence of my own stands between us;
    those gleaming, shimmering eyes, staring at me,
    leave me worthless, and full of thought.
    What is the meaning of my life, my brightness,
    when all around, in one, I see only darkness?

    I reach for my wallet, out of pity —
    but pity itself dares to hope;
    I close my eyes, and think:
    when all of this is around — but not happiness;
    those sweets, those crackers,
    waiting to burst, and to laugh,
    a day to love, a joy for one and all —
    but all day long, he goes without.

  • Forever Smile

    She looks around, and flies away;
    out of her wings, she brings her memories;
    through a day and a night, she murmurs —
    like a walking shadow, she lives each day…

  • Height of Evening

    Silence all around,
    when the birds aren’t chirping aloud;
    I come by, then, at the time
    when you reach the height of evening.

    Utter a sincere lie,
    and lay yourself down in the town,
    where there is no one around,
    and darkness reaches the height of evening.

    You come, surrendering to the soul,
    gripped by a differential thought;
    you whisper a name, but no one knows —
    in the silence of the evening, and its height…

  • The City

    The city sleeps with light,
    with a blanket of dreams and night;
    at the edge of shore and success,
    the night shines more than the day…

    The city runs on the metro track,
    and people upon one another;
    to dwell, and to do well, it fills everyone —
    and whispers its loneliness, on a wonderful night.

  • Belovers

    Hand in hand, the lovers and the beloved,
    the loving soul of the world, and of God;
    but now, glancing through the mirror of time —
    just the remembrance of goodness, walking down the street, alone.

  • Shore of Night

    Stop by the sea of rush,
    and listen to the crying at the shore;
    you’ll find a hundred of yourself there —
    but not one of them with another.

  • Come to Go

    The dream sleeps with the dawn,
    and when nostalgia grips the soul at the day’s end,
    when the world rejoices in the pain of being someone in disguise,
    I find myself in the past of time.

    When, at the shelter of love, they grow hate —
    mania and garishness are their intake;
    though surrendering to the darkness all around,
    all alone, I ship my way.

    People come, and go away,
    just like another season of a year;
    with the change, they drift away,
    but I look on, silently, at everything, like every day.

    When they shout at the fool of a day,
    I wonder who is the better one of the day;
    the same interests, so many others —
    but all of it, when I come, only to go away…