While at Midnight I am sitting upon the wooden bench in my park.
The green grass, tired on a day's journey, now sleeping...
Along with him, sleeping all the souls,
Who share the same park, the same complex.
The sound of sleep is calming like a morn prayer,
Resonant in some ways,
That touches the mind, not an ear!
The cool air in this November is fetish,
Breezes soft and sweet with fragrance of a night flower,
Whispering to my ears
With wishes so pure, so sublime!
Who knows such simple inward desire even?
Except the stars- so lovely, so curious!
Watching me sitting alone,
While they are keepers of a silent night.
A lovely night with azure sky,
Silent Moon in full bloom,
Of beams perfumed wavy,
Kissing my eyelids soft and warm.
I struggle to find my identity here,
Like my body, my senses, my presence,
Separate from my around.
Dews on grass weave rhapsodies with Moonbeams.
I've felt that melody,
Unheard, so sweetly,
Just have felt that melody!
Like the stars now feel me like one of them,
In an interesting place, placed on a time,
After so many worlds, lost and then regained,
A monument of these moments,
Eyelashes of an eternal vision!
copyright: Shamik Bose, Nov, 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem