If We Speak Loud Poem by Swarnadip Chatterjee

If we speak loud
Let our voice be music. A tone
That rings like heaven, and sings like murmurous
Wintry leaves that lie aloof, hopeless; neither shakes
Nor moves by sprinkling rain. Let our eyes
Stand, unshaken and firmly fixed in the look
Of a dead fish, moving around the globe.
It is meant to touch the arrow of Cupid,
Once shot, and gained, and proved
The worth of goal; not love, nor soul dwells
In such pursuit, so dearly-achieved.

But always, somewhere, some deadly desire winks
And speaks oblique.
Let our practised-love seek for it.
What else remains for us in this mundane multitude
Of eyes, that once faced the sun? And dared to die
In a sort of fit?