If I Could
Four hundred miles away the beach,
by Pijush Biswas
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.