Ray Subrata Ray (27.01.1959 / Nator Bengladesh)

In your old age you too are trailed romantic,
Adolescent, manhood, triangle, -the tricks .
Love in any form is romance,
It is either an intoxication or trance.
When romance says you good bye,
...Love from your life by itself flies..

When I write a poem, -I cry,
I had tried, I failed, I try.
You Beauty, -your hello lips,
Mellow voice, willowing-cave,
Youthful shape, flash in my rib ,

When I paint, -the Eye –romance,
The eternity peeps, and dances,
I say, simply, it is and I a romantic.

Shakespeare for the Dark Lady,
Turned romantic and shady,
Tagore, -swam in Labana’s lake,
He, you, and me, assumed fake,
Live and let live to bake romance’s cake
A little bioscope-romantic sake.

Is my birth for some One’s romance,
Between Time and Nature, -a romantic play,
Am I one of Every man’s humor?
With each change of transient –clay.

Satan’s virtue made Eve, romantic,
Adam’s test of forbidden fruit,
In our life’s flow installed romantic root.

Could I live without my mother,
Whose concern by virtue is romantic,
And with my darling oblivious,
My untold hang, whispers unheard song,
In her charmed magic, to saturate the prong.


My God is romance incarnate,
And the Fate I tackle is so,
Romance seconds me where ever I go