A picture for Subrata
Here, on this white canvas
A Picture will be drawn, a poem.
After the deep forest, across the field,
Lay a pair of milky white ponds.
Black magic stones in the middle, and
Surrounded by the slender love-trees.
Stepwise, from the middle of the ponds
A strange yet surreal hill is rising;
Continued from the deep cave roots
Flows the desired breath of love.
Then a dreamy mine of pearl;
When it appears from behind with the sun,
Lightning flashes in the cloudless sky.
A vast signboard across the mine-shaft
Gives instructions — ‘Don’t go to this way,
Or there will be a loss. Leave your letters here.’
Then…
This is how this imaginary picture ends.
Poet Subrata will colour it; It’s his own!
We just set the frame for him.