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Shayan Das Poem
See, I may write a thousand rhymes
With my lyrical tranquil art,
And weave thy name on threads of time
To melt thine ardent heart.
To please thy tender heart, my dear,
I may sing a thousand songs,
That soothe for aye each trembling tear
And heal the antique wrongs.
But neither the lines nor melodic grace
Of saccharine songs in tune,
Can ever depict thine occult face
Beneath the idyllic moon.
And neither the words nor lyrical charms
In the waves of rhythmic sea,
Can ever express the love that comes
From me and goes to thee.
For it seems that I have loved to thee
In countless modes and ways,
And we love with a love greater than we
Which is beyond the nights and days.
Which is beyond the diurnal moves, my dear,
Of this seraphic baffling Sphere;
A love so young, a love so true
After thousand mystic years.
And it seems that all the potions deep
In the Earth's eternal sea,
Carry for aye my secret ship
In the magic shores of thee.
For in every star and every place
And every lyrical line,
I find thy tranquil mystic face
Ere the eyes of mine.
And with every breath and every beat,
In every purple year;
Through echoing woods and echoing streets
Thy silent voice I hear.
And thy fragrance so slow unfurls
The secrets of my breast,
Like gilded stones and sparkling pearls
As keys open the chests.
And it seems that I have loved to thee,
Yeah loved forever high!
For thousand moons and thousand springs
Under the endless sky.
And we have danced hand in hand
Amidst a thousand hearts,
And promised to straighten every bend
And never ever to part.
So kiss to me, my fragrant rose,
The melody of my soul;
Let us break the chains of woes
And blend for aye as whole.
And lock for aye our virgin blood
With the iron gates of trust,
And sing forever, O sweet bird
With the hot rhythms of lust.
And neither death nor evil powers
Will dare to part our hearts,
For our love shall live in sacred flowers
Immortalized by arts!
Copyright © Shayan Das | Year Posted 2022
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Shayan Das Poem
It's true my days are dreary nights
And the ways are full of thorns,
I have to go through silent fights
In each silvery morn.
I have to deal with unnoticed tears
And sheer hatred and taunts,
And weird feelings of baffling Sphere
Don't go the way I want.
And vague mirages of eerie past
Like wraiths so foul and vile,
Ruin my flowers with grimy dust
And haunt my pleasant whiles.
But still amidst this savage game,
Though high my burning pain;
This life shall never lose its flame
And nay, it shan't complain.
For hurdles dwell in every sight,
O nothing is eternal fine;
And thousands even are spending nights
With aches sharper than mine.
And what's the use of weeping
When the sun has set in the west?
While squillion stars are waiting
To brighten again the breast?
So, though this life is fleeting
And yesterday was grey,
Here's my heart still beating
There's nothing I can't today!
Copyright © Shayan Das | Year Posted 2022
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Details |
Shayan Das Poem
I love thee not but only when
in morning time the daisies sway,
and blackbirds trill and do convey
that dusk turns dawn to strive again;
like fragile boats that go astray
in wild and roaring boundless seas,
bit by bit all unknowingly
to sense thy touch my nerves decay.
I love thee not but all noontide
when hopelessly sunshine I chase,
and go all out yet can't erase
my timeless angst that burns inside;
from all the ends and every place
thy gentle odours slowly creep,
and seduce me to fall and sleep
remembering thy sweet embrace.
I love thee not but every night
when splintered hopes I blend anew,
and pleasant thoughts all raw and true
do strike my breast to paint and write;
through moon and stars with vivid hues
thy sweet face enhances the sky,
and bit by bit through lows and highs
I better in my dreams love you.
Copyright © Shayan Das | Year Posted 2023
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