Fever Poem by MOLOY BHATTACHARYA

Don't look at me that way
With your feverish smile,
It will infect me too
And I would fall in love
That will make me restless,
I know, my feelings for you
Like a flute to a snake
Fly to mingle with you
In the strange land
Where people suffer
Like an innocent patient
From the pangs of love.

The arrow from your bow
Will injure my pure heart
That will bleed and die.
But the germ will grow
Inside the dead heart,
Giving birth to a new love
That is strong and passionate
Will caress and conceive you.