Twelve Years Were by Kabir

Posted: February 9, 2014 in Poetry

Twelve years were
To childhood lost;
Twenty to youth;
Middle age took care of
All the rest.
It’s too late
To have regrets.

You built a dike,
But the stream had dried up;
You enclosed the field,
But there was no crop to save;
You ran out with the snaffle
But already the horse thief
Had gotten away.

Bedridden with a stroke,
You make a rattling sound
And wish to make amends.
You’ll leave this world, says Kabir,
Pickled clean.

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