I wonder, what shall remain
Of today when I will take my breath tomorrow?
The warm breath I am taking
Shall turn, perhaps, cold with sorrow.
Or perhaps warmer still, but who knows?
Perhaps there shall be no breath.
But stop! Why am I talking of death?
My world seems so much full,
So much of happiness resides;
Tickling my spine with every whiff
That opens the window wide.
And a little way off the waves sparkle
Under a watchful sky of thousand eyes.
The faint lap and the fainter crash,
The feebler wave jerking dies.
Isn’t this paradise?
But how often, dear, how often
Discords rise after the first scene;
End of play and murder lies!
This calmness steal my calm,
This perfect happiness, this love’s balm-
Hell, why doesn’t the storm rise,
Tempestuous seas, lightning skies?
Come, welcome me within your carefree folds,
Give me the harsh, salty brine,
Let me taste that on which I bred.
How can the dullness of night
Match the morning’s shine?
But dear, your breast’s so warm-
Hide me there: don’t let my die.
-11/11/00, Calcutta-63