The Homeward Boat Fare. Poem by Subrata Ray

Perhaps few days are left,
Few they were,
In the beginning with eternal Time;
For the cultivation of season’s crops,
In this muddy dwelling.

Time once looked sunny pleasure,
And nourished the tender desire’s groves,
Nights slipped into oblivion,
The days taught the ropes.

Perhaps few days are left,
To water professions’ wrath and hopes,
Flickers and frauds were the Marathons,
Loves fortitude found no scope.

My crescent Moon had gradual bloom,
With the reflection of the Sun without,
The Sun within cried in the wilderness,
In vacation’s adolescent to manhood.