When in solitude oft I lie, my wonders,

Perhaps my lady-love is hesitant in telling me a lie,

For she has the heart of an angel and the mind of a child,

And she is still too young to decide the course of her life,

That lie she hesitates in telling me is-

“We are still two different butterflies.”


God bless her innocent soul, impeccably clean,

Perhaps at this age Joan De Arc was nothing better,

But lord all I ask – mould my love in her,

In her still impeccably clean soul.


It is not youth love I ask for, nay,

All I ask for is a replica of mine,

To be by my side in facing life.

Thy creations are fantabulous – Adam for eve, Eve for Adam,

This lamb is also one of your herd, Lord,

Won’t you unite a modern Adam & Eve?


Perhaps my love is mere infatuation,

Remember the oak develops but from the acorn,

Perhaps my love is even at this moment hesitant,

Youth is but a fraction of our life,

And if love doesn’t sprout in youth,

When shall it yield fruit?


Perhaps the right time is yet to come,

For what were hitherto two souls and two bodies,

To become one soul in two bodies,

But the time should come now, in youth.


Perhaps my talent will be appreciated,

Perhaps I will find success in this debut,

But I leave with the satisfaction that

My soul has reflected my mind on this paper,

Encapturing the finest details in not mere ink and paper,

“But my blood, written on my very own flesh.”


Dr. A Thanga Prabhu, 10.9.1986 



This article won a gold medal in the year 1986 from the English Literary Association of Sri Ramachandra Medical College & Research Institute, Madras on the occasion of the First College Day Celebrations.