Once we went aboating
by Nabakanta Barua
On the Ganges…………
The pale winter moon rose above the old cemetery
We remember we talked
We could not hear each other
Though the wind was not disturbing.
I do not remember what the sky looked like,
There was a sky…sure
Time is short.
I have no time and have too many problems to solve
I sip in a problem with every sip of tea
I inhale a problem with every puff at my cigarette
Put on a new problem every time
I change my coat…
When shall I love
And write you poems?
Give me a God
Give me a God to think of
Give me a God to escape.
Ah,it is pleasant
We are sitting ,simply sitting
I have so many things to tell
Which I know I cannot ,shall not tell
Last night I talked with me
Of too many this and that….
I was in an anguish to tell
This is enough…we are sitting .
The sun above is throwing little pebbles of its rays
Through the leaves of the tree,
They are falling on your nose,lips and arms
Not on mine
We are sitting ,sitting…….
We have had our talk