by Rima Sahamandal
Amidst the so called bliss of sun,
Why does my wound still burn?
In the cascade of heavy rain,
Why I cling to wash my pain?
Why amidst the play of wind,
Forever I encounter myself ruined?
How the upheaval interplay of the storm,
Astoundingly my doleful melody forms?
Whensoever I touch the snow
I wonder will you ever know?
That you forever made me to wait,
Ceaselessly I worshipped you to met,
With all my empty hands,
Consciously ignorant of menace of quicksand.
Gladly espoused a life futile,
Only to have your glimpse for a while.
But slowly my sun got set,
I’m welcomed by my mocking fate…
I'as seeking heaven in your eye,
Where the sea embraces the sky,
Dreamt to take you in my arm,
To feel your breath warm,
To have your delicious lips to taste,
And slowly to be perished in grave to rest...
Alas! You sham and Punic dream,
What can you gift but tears stream?
Crooked world is calling, damnation is due,
Time to bid you, “adieu adieu!”
Let me wake up,
And bury the dreams of glee,
Let me receive you cursed Sun,
With a cup of coffee.
When Mind whispers, “Elope from the world you abhor”
Then Life curses, “Nay! Strive to live once more”