Somnath Sarkar


The meadow reverberates with delightful pleasing harmony………….
The little brook meanders and dances over polyphony;
Remember the distant mountains surpassed with drizzling snow,
Through the flurry of iciness in night, we came alone.

The desolate land in some way quivers up our spine,
Echo of jungle, calls of the wild coalesce with allegheny vine;
The jagged uneven trail twist and turn as we stumble by tree line………….
The early sun, morning calls, we find the forest glade sign!

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