Ray Subrata Ray (27.01.1959 / Nator Bengladesh)
An amber of thine,
Beauteous beauty o Rose,
You turn us from dull prose.
Our vain seasonings fail,
Our ego of possession go to Jail,
The eye finds rest,
Love flourishes in new province,
O Rose, -you tease us,
Else where from our march,
Oh! you the signal of abstract truth!
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