A Prose Poem - The Indian Serenade (Percy Bysshe Shelley) Poem by Ravi Kopra
A Prose Poem - The Indian Serenade (Percy Bysshe Shelley)
I arise early from sweet sleep dreaming of you all night. The winds are soft and the stars are still shining bright in the sky. I arise after dreaming of you with springs under my feet. O sweet darling! I do not know how, but I arrive below your bedroom window.
The wandering airs are slowing down. The stream is silent and the scent of pine trees is everywhere like thoughts in a dream. The nightingale has stopped complaining in her heart. O my beloved! let my heart be upon yours for me to stop complaining.
O darling! lift me up from the grass below your bedroom window. I die! I faint! I fail! Let your kisses of love rain on my lips, and on my pale eyelids. My cheeks are getting cold and white. My heart is beating loud and fast. O sweetheart! press my heart against yours once again. It is going to break there, at last.
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright.
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me—who knows how?
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
On the dark, the silent stream—
And the champak's odours [pine]
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint,
It dies upon her heart,
As I must on thine,
O beloved as thou art!
O lift me from the grass!
I die! I faint! I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas!
My heart beats loud and fast:
O press it to thine own again,
Where it will break at last!
- Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/2/2024 7:35:15 PM # 1.0.0.1119
