Happy

Happy is he whose heart is a perennial fountain of exhilaration

Who can trace sunshine in a murky empyrean.

Happy is he who can create an oasis in a dreary desert of hopelessness,

Who can bloom a billion blossoms of brotherhood in the arid land of abomination.

Happy is he who can build a beautiful building out of the boulders thrown at him,

Who has the power and patience to churn out elixir from the venom.

Happy is he who sheds his ego forever,

Who is all-embracing in nature irrespective of caste and colour.

Happy is he who transcends deadly desires,

Who finds pleasure in giving everything without expectation.

Happy is he who searches happiness within,

Who is never dampened by thunderous storms of depression.