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From the sea of Ceylon to the dark mysterious Malay Peninsula Plying the unknown. Grey monochrome worlds of Vimbisara's and of Asoka's unfolded Before my vacant eyes And also the distant resplendent Vidarbha years ago. Tired exhausted I was amidst life plenty EXCEPT ... Except when for a few lingering moments I was refreshed anew by Banalata Sen. Her hair exuded dark primitive nights of Vidisha her face a sculpture from Shravastee; And there was I like a rudderless seaman Hopelessly adrift in an ocean suddenly discovering A grass-carpeted land far away In a cinnamon island, inviting and awaiting As I saw her in the darkness Lifting her eyes treasured In the comfort and exuberance of a bird's nest meeting me Tentative and yet reassuring, enquiring: "Where had you been so long?" At the end of a day as the dusk slowly settles Ever so softly like falling dewdrops As the hawks dress their feathers removing from wings The last hint of a sun The earth depletes all its colors Concluding its manuscript With tales reverating at the wings of extravagant fireflies. All birds return to their nests as do the rivers to the sea Terminating all transactions of life In the quiescence of certainty. ONLY DARKNESS REMAINS Only in that soft private darkness I meet Banalata Sen Now face-to-face. (This poem was contributed by Saumen Sengupta sengupta@sunyit.edu) ) |
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