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Poems from Sanskrit translations are not many since it narrows to limited mythological ancient texts, but the author has made an effort to translate this anthology works which must be applauded. Being a complex language with different metrical forms and subtlety will be demanding to extract its true essence but no where it lagged. Each verse is filled with richness of wisdom from that period into ample of elegance and quality to stretch the imagination. Especially this poem stole my heart – “Ah, poverty, I mourn for your sad fate, so long ago you claimed me as your friend, And ever since have been my constant guest. Where will you find a home when I am dead?” by Sudraka. This shows how introspective, articulate the poet has been which reflects on the works. Try it to prove me otherwise, happy to corroborate.

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This will be my first poetry book that seized me to read and find it incompetent to comprehend on what is intended to convey. Is it proposed to be an affair on death premises, even if that is true wonder of its catered audience. The philosophical thoughts are injected enough to prod on but feel nothing to linger afterwards. I was intimidated by the views of Martin Heidegger about this work and that is what has prompted me to be sneaky. Certain words did capture my vocabulary interest such as nebulous parabolas, orbital methadone and pseudo longinus. This quote feeds the curious minds “There is a sense of reality behind what reality senses”, “Time present and time past are nothing but future to me, I am not mad, chronology just made me look that way”. I need to read more of poetry books to get familiar with the appropriate inference, but as a starter hope this stirs the right notions. Well, it did to me.

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