There are fault lines In this land I love They are fever cells In this yield I love They are fuming wounds In these serpents I breed When there are fault lines I can see them vividly I can see their venomous permutations As I see from above Above the eyelids of all my sons Above the grey hairs of all my grandsons Above the black birds of all those forefathers Zigzag across the fizzog When they vomit lava and lashes of wisdom A few survive to meet the destiny Puzzles are there from primordial winters Somewhere engraved in caves Some where etched in stones Somewhere buried in calenders Some where weaved in cocoons Somewhere someone want to plough my fault lines Do you think I will look at this like a fool in a proverb? Do you think I will stand still like a ribbon crow? Do you think they have rights over my fault lines? I have seen them growing in pain I have seen them howling in tremors I had hibernated for years when they were just seeds of destiny I had seen their ripples across the peaceful valleys For them it is just a fault line that breeds contempt Why do fault lines breed contempt? Anguish exist beyond my farm Only that I want them to grow like the flat landers* of the prime These flat landers have flattened sols These flat landers have flattened foreheads These flat landers have flattened lungs These flat landers are flattered by all I love and hate their flattened existence Anyways my fault lines exist today and they were bleeding bad for years No one dared to seed the flowers of Eden or Springs of Sarover Now they have formed a design that utters songs Songs that they need, those who come again and again in vein Songs that they lick, lust, lash, leap and lampoon on their gardened breasts I am least bothered as they celebrate the wisdom of the gardenia I am talking to them, my own fault lines And they will listen and recite my songs for ever In the moments of juxtapose, which only I know We will meet and meet and meet for the miserable times to come!