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On the rooftop
The day is overhung with cloud,
A curious dream alights on the rooftop.
On the verandah, I am drinking
A book of poems-it is a good day
for drinking a slow world.
Inside my brain, a line of song returns
-of Tagore, ' still you remember me'.
In this fall-leaves in pattern floats down on
the naked ground- a couple sits on a bench.
They are as old as eternity-Love froze them
three million years ago. On other side of
the park lit-up window shows a magic.
In the melody of Malkosh from sitar played by the
the great maestro behind the clouds,
I am drowned-it make me an actuality
sans flesh and bones, sans intellect and
language; I threw my heart on the pavement
it leaps onto the sky like a moon so beautiful
that words fail........
What is it? you are no longer to answer me.
In the melody of sitar I drowned my self-
It made me only an existence,
sans flesh and bones, sans intellect and language.
I threw my heart on the pavement,
it leaps to the sky like a moon so beautiful
that words fail-what is it?
poem
by
Aloke Mukherjee
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