Chilka Poem by Shouvik Narayan Hore

A hill planted on a still lake- the Sun
Behind her shallow cliffs had hid- at Six
While crossing the curve when the day's third done,
The waters- dead still- yet living- their mun (archaic for mouth)
Was farther seen to mingle in the sea.
The sea! Less real, more vision's precious gift
To remind man of his split and the rift
With perennial joy- when the eyes unfix
From her sagacious face- O peace, dear peace!
That ruling the realms of dead melody
Now come; as trees and thrushes pass by
Man thinks and is brought in a closer mould-
O guest of three score years! In Heavens lie
The Chilkan lake- in carcaneted gold.