To The Eyes That Told No Tales Poem by ANINDYA BIKAS DUTTA

Betwixt the lines of the living,
And the lines of the ceased,
Rise the solitude's wails, the most quaint:
Of long-chanted songs which,
Travelling over waves of empty seas-
Come, come and perch beside me;
And speak of the other side of the sky...
To the eyes that told no tale.

They speak of the fullest moons,
Dimmed in their own light:
Who stroll the never-ending darkness,
Like the only face in a cold night.
Of the sweet roses, they remind me,
That bloomed but at the fall;
When others linger mere upon the lips
Speaking when paramours part.

They cry in tunes of abandoned paths,
Where dust, dirt and desires thus forget:
The spring of happiness that dance
In the gait of steps to but earnest hopes.
Of the shadowed foliage they bear essence,
Where greenery steals away as shades of grey;
Whose fervor lies upon the desolate air,
To tell a tale, has none within itself.

In the break of the night, they say,
Yet too early for hues of life to live,
Few have seen when tears- they dry
And fall but as another scented shewali.
Mornings come, come elusive evenings,
When they come, they hear again-
Songs that hold no meaning in them;
For which sound bear joy as yet?

They bewail, 'tis hard under harder suns,
To vibrate when the heart's music-
Like swallows in winter, depart away,
Beyond empty seas and barren lands.
The living hold no eyes I cherish,
The ceased return not them I do...
Solitude's wails: faded and failed;
For the eyes still tell no tale.

(Shewali- a fragrant flower native to India)