The seeking that will answer the call,
To begin in life, you must fall,
For in such a fall, rises your searching,
For an emotion, where lies the birth
Of a rhyme to tune with every breath,
The rhyme that becomes a bridge,
To this life again.
A rhyme where the heart speaks still,
A rhyme where the chaos silences,
As the sky fills with a music,
Lighting the sky with a breaking glow,
Coloring the horizon with heavenly blues.
The rhyme where doubts begin to melt,
And morning gets in the eyes again.
The rhyme where fears begin to dissolve,
And ocean dances in the pupils again.
The rhyme where struggles fade,
And a bud breaks in the heart again.
The rhyme where confusion clears,
And moonlight spreads its magic again.
Such is the rhyme that rises from the search,
For a meaning, a purpose of something called life.
Life may not rhyme at all phases,
As every phase may not have a perfect poem,
Life may not rhyme at all seasons,
As the pale winter comes with a gale of sorrow.
Life may not bring a perfect rhythm,
As times that come may carry poems,
That break the rhythm.
Yet from the imperfect rhyme,
Rises a heart glistened with hope,
Looking in the eyes of life again.
....Jayita Bhattacharjee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem