The Soul Of Dead Poem by DILIPBHASKER MATHRA

The Sky was Cloudless,
The moon was bright,
The field and Fortress,
Shone in the milky light.
Through the wide opened window,
I watched the stars glittering,
Beyond, in the far Milky way.
Then suddenly that noise
The wailing of a woman,
Echoed from the fort
Confused my Sensorium.

I seized my torch, Cautiously!
A stout stick beside
And came out of the room
A sudden impulse!
The watchman came running
‘Sir where are you going
In this late midnight’?

I paused, pointed to the fort
And the Stupendous Cry!
The watch man laughed.
‘Sir that Cry is not real,
That I hear every full moon night
From the fort where no one lives.
Perhaps from the soul
Of the beautiful princess
Who committed suicide a long ago’.
I stood motionless awhile!
Then walked back to my room
Trying to remember.
Where I had read in history
The story of that Rajputh Princess.