Each rainbow that forms in the horizon,
Says the story of tears and cry in the bosom,
Of every victorious human, who goes for shopping,
Pushing the trolley, touching all materials all along,
The eyes are drowsy, but the bunds are there,
Their prestige guards these from overflow,,0
The fine clothes, milled and tailored to the needs,
We are the human, evolved from our intelligence.
What we need in this life, except the happiness,
And if the happiness is obtained in one way or another,
And our hearts are happy with it with no pricking of fault,
What is the wrong that someone defines?
When that rainbow is formed,
The mind is calm and quiet,
The dust are settled and the humming of music,
Is rehearsed, the happiness arrives after the heavy storm,
veeraiyah subbulakshmi
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-events/
