Posts Tagged ‘Biswajit’

I stood under that tree for long today, seemed like a year gone.
Few dried leaves soon rushed to kiss the ground with a plea,
That the wind turned stronger and time wanted them to fall.
And no words, on that moment occurred to an ageing intellect,
But a sigh, after seeing the moon coming out of clouds in gold.

Who stands, who sails, who seeks that light after the darkness?
Often, when I wished to remember, I could see the waves here.
Why death not greeted with a trumpet blown in a strange smear?
What justice would our wealth do, what love can these times fill?
Time alone sweeps it all, time that we so much thought we hold.

Someday, when we meet again, if at all, we must greet the rain,
Like children come after a long holiday or a soul that travelled far.
Through the window, when you look far at that twinkling star,
Remember, it only is an apparition of an ushered artist to imagine,
The glory that glitters, where hope still lives and death a fiction.

Nothing lives forever, nothing dies, till this soul with love tries,
Even the storms turn into a song, and dead leaves look like petals.


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From far there, is that an echo now in the air?
And those clouds turning more into a sea fair,

With every whisper now, I look for that voice,
The one that would call me with much love.
Among chapters of courage and nature’s trace,
How we rose, how we fell, what more to prove?

Someday, when am gone, someday if you join,
I promise only those roses will bloom again.
Petal to petal, I found how your smile kissed,
Who says, who will ever see the past pitched?

They all pelted with more prose, and this poet,
Now stands with more ink and the heart to write,
The words that we spoke and heard all again,
The dreams among that silver moon after rain.

Insane if I am, then your love is the only reason,
No one has the time now to breathe that air.
Why then judge, what prudence, amid all poison,
Where hatred has ever built anything to care?

What wealth will we amass, if we can’t pause,
If we can’t listen to our own soul’s echo again?
All these are like that breath of yours now gone;
I wish am born again to meet you and ask again,
If not those days we lived, what night we belong?

Pause, I pray for you and look behind once now;
Among the dusted leaves, that bud will still grow.
Someday, when am gone, read these thoughts;
You will have a drop of tear over your lips to flow.

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It’s often, quite often, now I pause among the unending roads;
Someone told it would end someday, without any whisper.
From the steps across the green acre, she would descend,
She would run again to me, or wait under an umbrella shade
At the same crossroad, where we could not then bid farewell.

Like a mad, old man, I fought against every wind that crossed,
And tossed my hair, among nights without stars or the moon.
I often looked at the window, even when hands were engrossed
with paints, brushes and bruises over the linen woven long back.
Who says death is an end, who says marriage is being together?

I often see the boy from my innocent days, counting the stars,
Hoping the moon will stay forever and then again looks alone
Into my eyes and say, ‘I see the moon in your eyes’ and harps
To convince am him, to repeat that it all was written by none,
But time wished this soul to find that memories are not wars.

Let time be born again, let darkness lead itself to light again,
Let every stroke when I paint declare, love alone will gain;
For it gives all that it has, for it leaves all that it holds so dear,
I wish when we meet again, I see you smile and me in tear.

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How in a moment, everything ends, everything in a breath?
Everything we made, we hoped, we promised in these years,
And then all leaves in a spur to that mired and muzzled woods.
Am like that ancient moment, now sitting and looking at faith,
The one that lives inside me and says ‘now no more tears.’

This stone is so cold now, like a spring dumped by winter,
This air is so honest to tell, time has come, yes it has come.
No urge, no fear, but like a monk will walk into that darkness,
And let faith hold my finger again and lead so swiftly hereafter,
With the small little light, that still I am, I will someday be home.

That gratitude, our ancestry taught through the realms they lived,
I now pass it over to you, for many more will come even after.
Someday, when you are alone again, you will only find me so near.
I will go now with my paints and nothing more, to colour that sky,
Dip my fingers again, into that smiling stream, and bid goodbye.

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I felt the feather so close today, as in a whisper will tell
the road from here, the land beyond this sky and to sail
in the frozen air where no heart can breathe more love,
but in this silence, in the darkness find my stars to move.
Among the frozen worlds we know, we seek each other,
More than the slipping words and humming lips bother
To sing again that song, count again the stars and dream
The white and cold flowers and the old veins like a stream.

They will always tell am weird, I tell they are all the wood,
No life they see in these echoes of the green or in the blue.
What profit has all wealth ever done, what more they could,
Than filling the hunger lost in darkness and salmons for true.
I saw the dust fly and settle on every moment as love bloom
Like an untouched tulip field greet the air again to greet you.
This man will come again to that shore where you will reach
And take you over the waves, till tides turn and kisses you.

I will bleed like that ink again for our poem to come true,
Over leafless boughs to see again those leaves in cold dew.

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I just paused to see if the wind still blows
And the winter night has the same stars;
What prophecy, what passion now bows
To those monuments of a mystic moon?
Who says life ends in a breath or at noon?
No wealth ever made happiness or sorrows,
No leaves died among the snow or the spring.
Wake up, we belong to that fire from Mars,
The light that fate sinks in and softly flows.

What muses appear in hope as much I love you,
The heart decided, a soul numbered for peace?
Why count, when we can hold it all, every time
There is fear, there is a desolate light all around?
Will we, or should we, what questions we ask,
What prophecy, what passion now more bows?
These clouds will flow, that promise remains,
The one that eternity kissed, and time played.

Someday, when we meet again, we will also see;
All that we lived, all that we died for, all shall flee.

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The thought now rises, as if will touch the darkest corners,
The undressed truths of life and the bequeathed intellect.
What surpasses time while hope gallops and my soul refers;
The leaves fall, those leaves will rise again into a green sect.
I don’t make meaning, for it is mean to be finding the sense
In everything that we come across and things that we dream.
Let time be not an unending witness to our fiddled patience,
Someday when we float, shall talk in love about that stream.
What ice melted, and what streams they made into the sea;
Let souls judge alone, and eternity be in love, and times see.

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