I know you'll not read this verse, but there's
no romance, no colorful dreams, grayish sky, desolate land,
and muffled grown,
I know, your
eyes
Search my existence in the Valley of Bloom,
though spring has passed long ago,
I don't know why your aspire
has no entirety, while
you've been
robbed
whatever I had, it was an adsorption of last
drop or pseudo thirst for love, I do not
know, a chase continuously by
you behind me doesn't
allow getting a
moment
for a little nap, however, life wants to wear
some decent colored wrapper on
the wounded emotion, but
your unquenchable
desire has no
boundary,
it wishes to see me night and day with a
Zolaistic way, in the name of
realism isn't it, the self -
deception, impound
of sense but
you've
no time to think about that because your love
ends in the muscles and bones, the
the soul remains dry in the land
of rain shadow - - -
- SHANTANU SANYAL
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