The Mystic Queen. Poem by Subrata Ray

She is the romantic queen,
In her eye I see my mortal ruins.
She sees the things, never were seen,
Surely in my poetry she had always been.
She adds beauty to strangeness,
And light in the gloom,
With her sudden appearance I get swooned.

The whereabouts of her I know not,
But something unearthly she has brought,
The mystic magic of probable art,
Sprouts abounds in her start.
She is the mystic Madame,
Tinges she, as she be,
With her unborn divine wings.

Her love they say,
Infuses the divine despair,
And she blooms like the rose of May.

She remakes, where she graces,
The transparency of the soul,
And one leaving fun seeks the joyous goal.