| |
Thou met me in the weeks of January,
Thou seemed to be a damsel out of the woods of fairy-
Thy beauty, thy grace
Like the snow flakes the colour of thy face.
Let it be morning or a stormy night,
Thy beauty cheers my sight-
Thy freshness like a rose,
Makes my verses come just as a river flows.
Oh dear! How will I utter how much I covet you,
Thy thoughts like a canopy cover me like the sky blue-
Thy murmur, thy sigh,
Have the mute beauty of mountains high.
Still I fail to express my feels -what a pity-
But I love you dear, Oh! my sweety! !
Sonnet Mondal National poet of India
|
|
Free
Poetry E-Book:
E-mail this poem to e friend