The Blue Boy Music (Shyam, Your Flute, Divine Flute!) Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Shyam, Your Flute, Divine Flute,
Shyam,
Ghanashyam,
The Blue Boy,
Where the Blue Boy playing,
Playing the flute,
The Divine Flute,
Shyam,
Ghanashyam?

Melodies breaking,
Breaking forth
And calling,
Calling and recalling with
Shyam,
Ghanashyam.

Radha hearing the music,
The melody breaking,
Giving ear to
And running,
Running to the bowers and arbours,
By the banks of the Yamuna and the forest bordering it
To find, find
Where Krishna, Krishna is playing tunes?

Where are you,
Krishna Playing the flute,
The Divine Flute,
Where You, Shyam,
Ghanashyam?

The Blue Boy
With a crown over the head
And the flute on the lips
And the face too bluish,
He playing the tunes
And the melodies breaking,
Breaking and engulfing the area?

Radha too shyam,
You too shyam, dark-complexioned,
Radha too in your hue,
In your hue coloured, hued, shyam, Shyam, your flute
Making me mesmerize the way
And the listeners getting in lost In hearing the tunes.

Shyam, the music of the words,
The music of it
Takes me, takes me
To the paths trodden and untrodden,
To unfurrowed domains of life,
Shyam, Ghanashyam,
How the fluting of Yours,
How the tuning of it,
The melody breaking!

I see You in the pain,
The pain of my heart,
I see You, see You
In the heartthrob, the heartbeat of mine,
The anguish and restlessness of mine,
The uncertainty of life and living,
Krishna, my Krishna!

My angst, my bewilderment,
My anxiety, my restlessness
Are You,
My anguish, my frustration,
Where to go, where to go,
Krishna, my Krishna,
Where to go, where to go,
Leaving You, leaving You?

When care corrodes it my self,
When anxiety and anguish overtakes me,
When depression descends upon
Raked by utter despair and darkness
And I find it nowhere, nowhere to go,
I find You, find You smiling,
Smiling by me, by me.

What it the mystery of black and white, white and black,
Why is it Radha fair, fair and white
And You shyam, shyam, dark, dark bluish,
Dark-complexioned?

I see You, Krishna, Krishna
In the flying colours of the clouds,
The dark clouds hanging over,
Dark clouds over the hills and mountains,
Looming large
And it darkening, darkening to rain,
My God, my God, where to go, where to go,
Take shelter from?

Krishna, Shyam, Ghanashyam
You in the shadow of the hills,
The blueness taking them over,
Encircling around
As the aura around,
You in the dark clouds,
The dark clouds hanging over,
Hanging to burst upon!

Shyam, Ghanashyam,
How the raaga is,
How the pain, pain of the heart
Calling, calling Him,
The melody, the melody taking it, taking it,
Shyam, Ghanashyam,
The rhythm so vocal of
Pressing, pressing upon the heart
As the yearning haunting us,
The tinge of pain, pine,
The heartache!

N.B. Read the poem under thye shadow of the Blue Boy, the idol of the Blue Boy, we mean Krishna, blue-coloured and if to contrast, contrast it with a blackly one.