We’ll not meet in rain

Tonight this ancient heart of mine again realises
We’ll never meet – two of us – in rain
And rejoice the drunkenness of our love
In the hours of tumult, in the solitary plain.

Vagabond breeze strolls past my window and stops.
Does it hear my ragged and forlorn whimpers
Despite the rock wall I built to shield my dreams
Perchance any infinite eye embraces it and desires?

O vagrant heart of mine, mourn not at twilight,
Your inviolate sorrows not improvise
‘Cause had we met in rain, all might end in fire
Swallowing everything, not to let us again rise.

Tonight, yet, my wandering fantasies walk on dying dew
In the widening hollow of numb desires, as I fall
In solitude, drifting in darkness of the empty station
Wondering: is life larger than the soul?

[Dhaka, January 12, 2016]

Ode to cascading melancholy

Dabbling in fading dreams, the graying desires dim
Dew mourning the death of cascading melancholy
But gather. O weary whisper, thy hazel eyes dream
Unbearable lightness; trade the myth of solitary folly?
Rise, O death pale ecstasy, thy manacles throw
Drape not in dark shroud ere courage – old
As the world’s bosom – blossoms and grow
Enwrought with mirth in the field of gold.
Hush not, my love, thy whimpering sacred breath
Tread if you may far from the refuge of quiet
Souls falling into eternity but wears the wreath
Of grandeur, not the weeping gloom of the night.

[Dhaka, December 24, 2015]