Poetry

In this beautiful world, I have no desire to die,

I wish to live in the midst of men.

In this sunlight, in the flowering forests

In the heart of all living things may I find a place

Incessant is the play of life across the earth

With its perennial waves of union and separation, laughter and tears.

Weaving songs from the sorrow and happiness of man

I wish I might build an immortal realm.

Or failing this, I hope I can claim a seat

Amongst you for as long as I live

Composing songs like flowers that blossom ever afresh

For you to gather in the morning and noon.

Accept these flowers with a smile, and then alas!

Cast them aside as they fade and die.

Rabindranath Tagore





Saturday, May 11, 2013

The Rain


In between her sobs,
She tells her story,
My hysterical friend,
The rain.

How she had waited
For years
For her true love
To come back.

She remembers
How he forgot
Or never bothered
Much about her.

How her longings
How her love
She hid behind
Grey veils.

When she could
No longer bear
Her sadness
She burst to tears.

Once in a while,
She weeps inconsolable,
Abandoned and lone,
Through the night.

She sobs and chokes
Her long silver hair
All scattered
Over her frail body.

In between her sobs,
She tells her story,
My lone friend,
The rain.

1 comment:

swapnap said...

Dear Marja- nice to see your beautiful write. enjoyed the portrayal of rain as a friend.....its raining where i am.

love
swapna