Subrata Ray Poems

I my heart, You play the art,
And the magic miracle you tune,
I think You are in me the gramophone!
In my eye there dances Your image,
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Music by nature is without word,
As the dumb in us prevails,
The notes within find flow,
As boats of melody sail.
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The Cry Of the Shadow.

Alone, alone in the ancient desert,
The step hangs in despair,
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Song To Sri Ramakrishna
No gloomy day came,
As I chant your name,
And no remorse dare to peep,
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The Galloping Scholar.
Gallop, gallop, gallop -scholar,
On the bookish steed of your whim,
Your fancy-box dismay you,
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Sri Ramakrishna The Divine Melody.

You have the musical body,
You are the condensed-field,
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All big sayings whisper and rebound,
Fear and panic force to be tongue-tied,
The molested Innocence experiences,
The orgy of the Big-Brothers and statesmen.
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The Divine's Sacrifice.

Wounds of love drinks sins of cups,
To restore and redeem the fallen ones,
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The Grandest Mother Divine, -Maa Saroda.

Hey Prayer be deep, vehement, and ardent,
Hey Will be the spindle of super-manliness,
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A poet says, you can't erase,
The forest from an animal's mind,
It may be caged, it may be oppressed,
But it never lose its wild rage.
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