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I have collapsed huge mountains,
Weakened thundrous hurricanes,
Emptied endless oceans
And tricked many intelligent brains.

Oh! I am so mean.
I make dirt look so lustrous and clean;
I alter pale leaves' hue to nothing but green.

Hope in the month of May,
The day comes without any delay.
When we will all pray
And put all our dreads and myths into a tray.

With all my deep sorrows,
Making paths in sand by drawing furrows,
Until someone says that he really ensures
All my praise and love from me, he borrows.

Time is not much left for the rise
By shocking the whole world with surprise.
Soon, haters will have screams full of cries!
And it won't stop until someone tries.

At the end no one wills to blame,
Except a few illiterates with bloats of shame.
'Kabiraj' is the one for whom poetry is a game
Don't you think that I have earned my name?