I like the road I went through
And seemed as clever as the skies
Who bear their bosom to bough
While fly at distance wild pies
To give rest them, and cover with wear
'Em, under a coming fear.
On a morning, under July, I
Tried full at a swing to reach
Where underneath the sea die
At completion, Hopes who teach
That Life is all too long a date
Who, at confluence, ends as rivulet.
I go and I go, - and came rain
Briefly, but all to make difference
And could not understand main-
Should I return or approach, thence;
I care my aim,
I care the road who made
The difference; nor I claim
Nor he was weighed to provide a shade.
06/28/2016
COPYRIGHT@ RESERVED BY PIJUSH BISWAS
[Published in his self-published book 'Some Suitable Words', in 2018]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem