To My Coy Mistress Poem by MOLOY BHATTACHARYA
To My Coy Mistress
I am suffering from fever
My love for you is not over
Your image always mirrors in my mind
I caress you like an invisible wind.
You are a moon in the sky of my heart
I dream of you when eyes are shut
You are my waking dream
In you I dissolve like ice cream.
You breathe an infected air
My passion you burn with care
Like a dew on the morning grass
You cede to your Byronic crush.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/17/2026 12:04:18 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
