Suman Kumar Das


Cuckoo


May every morn be spring morn!
Coos the cuckoo at every dawn.
Yon, smell of young mango buds,
Blowing from green woods.
On the terrace corner,
A thrilling voice starts to murmur,
Awaking me from deep slumber.

I know not its theme,
Nor I know rhythm.
Still, how sweet strain!
With total ignorance of pain.
Soars she gaily in the sky,
Seldom appears in shy.
Shall I hear till I die!

Submitted: Tuesday, November 05, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, November 06, 2013

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