Since, I had been so- my dear!
My heart was sheen, thou wert my lover;
But, all, washed away in some grievance
By swaying branches of motley dance.
Sorrows of night, not redeemed by Almighty
Could I not bear, - - for Pity
Which, shown upwards, jeered up;
And sprightly pillows which the flood,
Gallantly, did sink, -or least, kept alive
Must show historic, or never dive.
Know, Love waste not by time nor will
Love is, always, wanting favour and appeal;
Love is like taste of florescence in life
Love is but a ride on a cheerful cliff.
What sorrow, what woe, then, had we
That Krishna gave a turn for me?
Then, - -I would better claim, nor hope
Is it written to be for special blood?
Oh! yet, Hope is a feather, flinging into skies
Must bring us to Love with lease.
04/29/2016
COPYRIGHT@ RESERVED BY PIJUSH BISWAS
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem