The Unrecognized Village. Poem by Subrata Ray

The Unrecognized Village.

Village after village,
Near the glimmering horizon,
There might be a beautiful place,
Might there in Impossible,
My hitherto fostered Love dwells.

She might be the damsel,
Made of the dawn-bloomed Saphali,
With crystal still of pouring dews,
She stands wearing the trailing blue,
And presents the face of phenomenal grace,

My steed, through gloomy bushes and random weeds,
Through incessant plots and stubborn fields,
And the bank through Wilful-Rivers glide,
In the balance of hope and despair rides and rides.

Remote to remoter charms might be there in her bower,
My spirit swings in nightly dreams,
And my steed gallops in the daylight hours.

Perhaps in the village though,
If ever the village is recognised,
Might there my Love find,
The quenching lake of my contented Bride.