Shukdeb Mazumder
I look at the sky-
Into the sky- but
Nowhere is there any star to be seen-
Any glare or glee!
Alas! you are not twinkling at me.
There is a secret- sacred- open
Large lake inside me-
Entirely mine- fine- not fake
But no breeze- gentle or giant-
Is shaking the water- where
Lovely lotuses are torn, a lotus-eater
Is holding out threats and
There is no goose or gander!
Alas! you are not taking a bath there.
I have a life- I am alive-
I am a living being-
But how- to what extent- without hearing
The sound of my soul to be sung
By you, the beautiful, beatitude mine?
Swiftly harp upon the string-
I am thirsty- dried up, dryad, like
A straw in the rude sun.
A shading soon should be run.
In my life- on the way of my life
You are a shower- a rainfall-
Please, befall me!
A hydrant you are- not a hydra- from which
Water must be drawn-
Must come down upon me
To make me drowning, please, don't flee!
© Dr. Shukdeb Chandra Mazumder
25/08/18
Comments