Romance Poem by KATOCH P C K PREM

ROMANCE

On that hot evening you remember
I gave a word to you,
word that fell short of import
my promise was deep to touch hollow,
the sea of waterless thoughts on this vibration
the crying of philosophy loud stinking to ears.

That experienced the taunt,
now everything is clear,
like the sky without a sun whose horizon cracks,
at the hammer fall of a hot evening
lost in murmur on the riverside,
to dream at night.

The word given at dim light hazy
with a faint echo
and so I did not know the meaning yet.

II
I gave a word you remember
I remember the word,
I remember the riverside, a word I gave,
haunting the word I gave,
meaning I don't find,
my senses fail, my brain dull
or the imprint is lost.

Remembering your eyes,
catching the meaning it suited,
I doubt I remember, for I lost the meaning
I forgot I tell you.

I descended I admit, I strolled with you
and the word,
and the portrait of the word
whose pieces scattered on the table
that evening like an empty glass of wine
thrown into eyes dazzling,
before going into the arms.

Passion still I remember,
tender white still I feel,
like the touch of air on the cold hill
in a dry winter,
word, riverside and cold air, hot evening,
all revolve without a pattern, no shape
and an evolved form, as if a dying dream
before the eyes,
of a death bed.

III
Now what this letter means got this morning,
renewing the pattern of evening last
impossible in aridity.

This means nothing. The word has no pattern.
Riverside no shape, memory is uncertain,
everything is a moment's certainty,
it changes the other moment
moment dreams the other moment,
changes the other moment
present dreams, die the other moment,
moments' certainty is doubtful now
for future escapes the clasp.

We think we never change, never say
that dreams die
and die with a moment's glory,
it happened and so changed,
and the word stands without meaning,
a word that tells of immortality and death too.

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