Etc13 Poem by shuvo chakraborty

She swam on the mild cold blood,
The standstill red lake that once was deluge
Now full of floating weeds, fishes and toads
With drowsy surroundings of fatigue snows
Which peak the each mountain of sleep.
The liquid confine that never saw the Sun arouse
Neither the bubble of embraces under afternoon meadows
Save some unnatural winds plays over the pillows.
The sloth arteries of night breeding pump some darkness
That engulf the ancient bed but quite insufficient
To bring the swan too close ere the epic threshold.
Star of evening as if from zenith weighing the
The blooming self of that unknown fairy
Hurrying to all corners over the dull lake
To bring some red waves pumping to the lumbering heart
That slept much before the horses of Troy or Helen or first born male.
So the waves receded with twinkle pace
Leaving some visage of unfaithful charms
Which have price to invite another same
Not of deluge but of lowly waves
That play so lightly over the lake
Create no beauty breath take
Nor any remorse for loosing the indifferent bed
Or passion inflamed since it knows
That living are dead and they fade
Evaporate at earliest than these snows.