Oh! I hear it,
I hear your voice
In this room, candle-lit.
And even though, my heart tries to deny this essence,
My mind recognises your presence.
But let this invincible battle take a rest,
At this ill-time, let me welcome this unexpected guest.
Wait!
After all this while, is it really you
Who obstructs this crimson hue?
Oh wait! It IS you…
Clad in your promised golden robe,
The purple earrings, adorning your ear lobes.
Crestfallen; with you, dreams I knitted once,
Like an insane, “With her presence, my life smoother runs.”
Oh wait! It IS you…
The lady whose presence, one day, sublimed,
Stayed behind I; and about you, my broken rhymes,
Well, It is you,
With whose memories I camped in world’s starry tent,
Asleep to midnight dreams,
Companied Lyra’s strings, and a moon crescent.
But now, all nights seem to be twenty-one,
Cold gray nights, morns with no sun;
And when I gaze at the infinite twinkling stars
They remind me of THOSE sweet little sparks.
Charm still outs from Orpheus’s lyre,
Sans merry, only of dire:
That someday you’ll dwell in abundant bars,
While my staffs will still heal the plethora of scars.
And the nights flutter me to that page:
When the tallest cliff became my stage,
And below me, the world awaits,
Birds and trees of all age,
Folks who’ve just masticated their rage,
To witness this declaration of love,
Eavesdropped too, two engaged doves;
But it was here where you left me,
A tempest of such kind, compare can no simile.
You still live in my prayers, dear,
But the difference now, lies here:
It’s never to bump into you,
Down narrow streets or even at a faraway lieu.
And with these tears that are shredding
In this room in crimson hue
I bid our memories, you and your letters…
A Final Adieu.
– Shibaditya Ghosh
