Ratan Bhattacharjee (01-12-1957 / Kolkata)
Why The Moon Hides Itself In Cloud
Suppose, let us suppose
There is none but you, moon and me
The moon shines above
Sprinkles drops of light on me
You are there near me
dropping dewy kisses on my forehead
I close my eyelids to drown myself in a dream
A sweet dream, let us suppose
You gaze at the moon
I feel jealous, my moon
How beautiful thou art
The moon will hide itself in clouds
You will never know why
She has been shy.
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