Pragjyotish Bhuyan Gogoi
I, Days - Poem by Pragjyotish Bhuyan Gogoi
A day comes and the day goes,
Like the truest friend and the finest lover;
And amidst, within the theorems, I hide,
And beneath the numbers, hides Blake.
Ordained, me thus a happy priest, my mind,
To see like a god and feel like a man;
For when the rain's falling,
Its dynamics precise, owns the day,
And its hands holds the night.
Comments about I, Days by Pragjyotish Bhuyan Gogoi
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You