Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Morning Sleeps....


I have often seen the morn cuddle in the arms of a beautiful night,
the night, coy and bright, walking the earth in her long strides.

I have often seen the morn asleep in the arms of slumber,
in an earthy cot lying in the darkest chamber.

I have often seen the morn covered in a blanket full of stars,
the twinkle of the stars giving warmth, though very far.

I have often seen the morn, with its eyes closed,
the nightingale singing a lullaby with its sweet tone.

I have often seen the morn yawn with a break of dawn,
stretching its arms, spreading its cheer all along.

I have often seen the morn become a new day,
looking back at a night that sleeps under it today.




© 2013 Abhijit Pandit

Monday, January 21, 2013

The Maiden of the Farm

I have seen you many times in the fields, cutting grass and grain,
the sun bore down hard on you, and you showing no restraint.

The wind makes your hair flow and the scent too,
the long, golden hair flowing down those weary shoulders,
which are tired too.

Beads of perspiration grow on you, you wiping it from your brow,
who has seen you working in the fields with such glow?

Armed with a sickle, you cut the crop clean,
the tired hand of yours harvesting the grass green.

The raven finds you working every day,
among dusty soil and burning rays,
planting crops, and making hay.

Sitting there by the fireside under a starlit night,
your skin cooling under the moon's rays,
you walk in sweet dreams of another day,
another day of toil, another day of rest.




© 2013 Abhijit Pandit

Saturday, January 19, 2013

The Face in the Mist


I was among the hills once more,
their crests, silent and still,
nestled between the clouds,
wrapped in profound silence,
lay scattered in the land yonder.

The road that wound on to them,
entwining them, like the arms of a lover,
I walked on now... walked in sweet memories.

The mist that hung on those lusty roads,
clung on to me, like the embrace of your arms,
soft and tender.

In that mist, I saw you,
the delicate contours of your face,
forming in the swirling mist.
The thin hair of yours,
flowing away in the wind.
Your face, soft as moonlight,
smiling upon me,
arresting me with your love.

Now it will melt away in the sun,
and the scheming rays will take you away from me.
Oh, how I despise you, O cruel sun !!
O jealous sun, burning away with envy !!
With all your bright rays, you cannot paint for me,
the picture of my beloved.
The beloved, whose face I saw in the mist,
The beloved, which you have taken away from me.



© 2013 Abhijit Pandit