The Milky Way is dying, or is dead, by the lever of oblivion;
A billion suns will be shattered by the cleaver of oblivion.
I remember not the love songs lost or the updraughts of passion;
Drowned in sea of disdain, I am a believer of oblivion.
She will reap a million vows of my opponents over tulips;
The seamstress of her nightdress is a weaver of oblivion.
Gentry float on velvet strips to the banquet of the chosen,
I stumble over brambles like a retriever of oblivion.
In the end, no wind will shake the mellowing sheaf of barley,
No god, no man, no infant can be the deceiver of oblivion.
En route to tryst with elements, a black rose shed its petals.
The afternoon in the dust stood as the griever of oblivion.
Uma, let me sing to the full the swan song of my essence,
I am toppling down the hillock into the river of oblivion.