My Lady The Moon, And I The Sun. Poem by Subrata Ray

Moon needs Sun's light,
For the life of her unborn harvest,
A ray simply comes as guest,
The Moon enjoys the ecstasy's taste,

The moon buds, blooms,
The Sun often turns bee,
As if upon a flower sits the drone he.

The Sun is beyond our grasp,
Yet with its heat and light we live,
Our psychic and imagination control us,
And the body react with their touch.

Dear lady, you the Moon,
And your lover, say me, the sun,
Are here for, sense's fun,
In our child, -the moon peeps,
And the sun its seed reaps.