The Hang Longing. Poem by Subrata Ray

I know the flood of youth,
All about that I know,
I seek and try, taste the fry,
Like lunch, and dinner,
The shadows come and go.

The wistful afternoons tickle,
The crazy nights, roar,
The deserted streets, well merit,
Bread lamps, waiting wiry, dating calls,
Like passing dreams reveal and scroll.

In the marry-go-round, the go-as you like, -rides,
The tenor bears the grooms and the brides,
The sun rises and comes the night,
Day, month, year pass in ebb and tide,
The hang longing peeps and slides.

I think, I know, somewhere I have to go,
Some special persons that wait for me,
Or dig my mine, to crude the oil and refine,
And wish, I have a lamp of my own to ignite,
To see Your face, in the darkest dirge of the night.