Swarnadip Chatterjee

Where you live I dont know.
I never saw your face though
You are in me, I am sure.
You are good, very much pure.
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Let me be lost
In a new world
Where the skies are blue
If I get
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Oh, the moon oh the silver moon!
Who made you so grand and good?
Oh the disc of gold! You are boon
Of my god! You are not rude!
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The unforgettable moment
The singer, the very great singer
Sang his sweetest song
I was sitting, very near to him
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I know, I know the wretched man,
You need something to eat.
I know, I know the rickshaw-puller
A lot of money you need.
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To them,
The sweet flowers are to be sold
The sweetly singing birds to be killed
For they must earn a bit to live
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Oh! An endless, vast lea now I see.
The soft summer morn now opened her
Dress, I see the shining star
On it, full of glorious glee.
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Oh! How the leaves of the cocoanut trees shine
After a shower of the previous night,
Oh, the nature! You look lustrous and fine
Thanks a lot for showing such a great sight!
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If we speak loud
Let our voice be music. A tone
That rings like heaven, and sings like murmurous
Wintry leaves that lie aloof, hopeless; neither shakes
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Tonight
A face will peep
And peer from your window-panes.
When the night is coiled, like a serpent
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