The Melody Touches My Guitar Poem by Sankhajit Bhattacharjee

With calm yellow mind
I am sitting at the lonely corner
beside gray sand.
You will not come,
you will not color the soil.
Who loves me!
Sitting alone, I am playing
the flute of separation,
expressing the wrath of agony.
Amidst the fading gloomy evening
the monotonous tone raises its wings-
dry leaves are full of dust.
The clouds fly away
from one country to the other
to convey the news of my loneliness.
The appearing and leaving of sunlight color their wings...
Will it bloom in the spring?
You stretch your pink hands,
the dark night becomes delightful morn,
I will sing now.
Red and blue color my life.
The rivers and ponds become flooded.
The melody touches my guitar.