To love
Every morning breaks through the fans,
Of the palms quiet groves.
The seaside fishermen return as,
The lush waves summon.
River twins the Padma and the Ganges,
Slither to enter morn from night.
The intoxicated creatures of idyll world,
Open up and tend to light.
The wet yellow drapery clings to my chest,
As the roving eyes complain of unrest.
While outside crows and white pigeons,
Cry out their senses.
The frills of my long hair shine bright,
Tamed by water.
My night’s worn out odour is shed,
A new aroma bathes me-thy incenses.
Every such morning a lot passed by,
Unnoticed, unreported.
A lot will pass so………….
Like ever before.
The love-moon waxes and the same way,
It will wane!
Its just strange how the symmetrical nature
Even whose dust deposition is uniform!
Has given rise to such a crescent---
One sided, ever thirsty
Year after year- for a mystic deity.
The pangs of love---
And on your dispossession,
The poetry of virginity.
