The Smellings Of Silences 1 Poem by Biren Mukherjee

All were irony then! Jest or mockery
Flooting Spilt of water in search of inner-flying clouds
Dazzled eyes, green chlorophile, poetic pride
Unspoken poetry or the dimensions of destination?
I can see, amidst the intuitive air, burning-the ponds in eyes
The path is being taking its reach by foot in
parallelogram shadows
In the young winter yeards where Blossomed ÔLau Phool'
[flower of goard]
Pressing in the heart the perfume of `Dhup' modest dawn-lit night.
And became handful of rituals of pleasaret happiness
Constrain less path-the friendly guide are you
In the sky of the immersing lower part of the setting moon
Let fly childhood kites
Explaining jets Let there may be then the flow
The highest knowledge of knowing ÔBodhishatta'
Exploring flow the smelling of silence.