I praised your sister's brow
When I loved you, or didn't know-
The opportunity went late
To let her know my fickle state;
Out of world I had made
To you, Love could have gone under shade
Of her fruity-baked mandate
Or, found second my fate,
For 'twas not better I swear-
Petty yours, much love were her
I left veiled curtain
And bore oppressing pain.
Yet, I love you, inspite!
As you were sought once
To be my uneasy days' mate
Or, to undefy plurally silence
Of those days I went through;
Not on falsified, nor freaky word
I swear again it's enough-
Much to love you on mod
Is better than fall into loop
Of His everlasting rule
Or, unwrought himself to be dupe
Or, myself to null.
COPYRIGHT@ RESERVED BY PIJUSH BISWAS
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem