By Debashis Bhattacharyya
In my heart, a harp does play
Tuned to your melody, night and day.
Like the cuckoo calls in spring’s delight,
Birds that sing at morning’s light.
As rivers flow to the ocean's embrace,
So my restless soul, in endless chase,
Runs to you, drawn by a spell unknown—
Who knows it, who can say?
In my mind, floods rise and fall,
Like waterfalls that heed love's call.
When flowers bloom at dawn's sweet hue,
My tender heart weeps, longing for you.
The pain of missing you rests in my chest— Who knows it, who can say?
As the waning sun touches the sea,
And waves rejoice in festivity,
As bees roam fields in search of bloom,
My soul still longs to feel your room.
It weeps in silence, a soft, sad tune,
Ever hoping to hear your voice soon. Who knows it, who can say?
No one will know, in this world so wide,
The depths of sorrow my heart does hide.
Only my dearest can truly see,
The silent ache that dwells in me.