To last half at thy care is a steadfast lore
Bright star, I would be waning least by time
The Glow desired to be mine by full of core
And Moor, - colored in green, overflowed by chime
Lot, veiled yet, -would never come back fear
Nor be pleasant, dressing on old culture's mane
The old remembrance will be boosted with tear
Or, caressingly, icy breeze smite upon window-pane.
Though gleaming, unfair the weather may be
Gliding, where thy secret once was sheen
'Tis spoiled, that in thy love perfectly I could see
Moreover a toil, unjust, could not have been
For a Love, - wanting in some gruesomeness
Might pervade it's lace to our demand
If untold worries of those days could I express
And nearby rivulet, stood by hand in hand.
02/22/2016
COPYRIGHT@ RESERVED BY PIJUSH BISWAS
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem about love in the other way. Thank you for sharing.