The Fiddler Poem by Manas Misra

The Fiddler



The trembling strains of a fiddle I hear,
Tearing through the silent night.
So distant, and yet so near.
The pain of the fiddler I feel,
Scars that never go,
Wounds that never heal.

Is it the longing for someone far away?
Or the unfulfilled feelings,
He felt but could never say?
The touch of those hands in his dreams,
That refused to hold him in life.
When he cried, and no one heard his screams.

Play on, o fiddler, play on.
For pain is your destiny,
And all hope is long gone.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Gajanan Mishra 08 March 2012

Very fine poem. Congratulation Manas. I invite you to read my poem.

0 0 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
1 / 1
Close
Error Success