Ranadeb Bhattacharya (21/11/1983 / Kolkata, India)
The weeping sky in her pensive shade,
Sinks into every blade of green,
Yonder the paddy fields,
Where the poor man’s plough tills,
The womb of earth for the promise of life;
As the sweet smell of rain,
Spreads her spell over the thirsty plains
Gliding fast for the brooks and hills.
All things wilt and wither away,
That which must sail into the hungry tide,
While the curtain drops as the trumpet fades,
With the desire for slumber,
Arrives the fading twilight.
Yet life weaves her eternal melody,
Beyond the lyrics of decay and palsy,
From every passing comes forth –
A new tale of love married to hope.
And the May flowers will blooms again,
While the summer breeze will gently blows,
Into the whistling night of endless light,
In the oasis of silence where the Divine,
Tends to all with care and love.
All blends into one rhythm sublime,
Of beauty true and pure
Both sinners and saints alike,
Beyond the veils of mortal reason
Beyond the play of darkness and light,
We become the Eternal Sunshine.
Comments about this poem (The Rains by Ranadeb Bhattacharya )
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