If I Could

Four hundred miles away the beach,
The Bengal Bay with her deepest frenzy dances
And I, uncalled to Hills, often pray to meet
Those fragile waves of the sea;
If knew, one dear call by Hills done yesterday,
I ever with my broken lyre could sing
Upon both their glories past.
So, I do walk between my dreams
And that I everyday meet is the Bay;
Or, if I could touch the sea in real,
The happy mountain must have sent
An oriental wreath for the sea,
And I become it's bearer.


by Pijush Biswas

Comments (1)

Their glories past. Nice work.