To My Mistress. Poem by Subrata Ray

The green field peeps,
The sky blues the gusto,
And river glides the fascination!

Your temple enchants passage,
For the ran-random -whims of humor,
Seeks completion in your Nature's mine.

The created heavens of strange madness,
Imply magnitudes with the past weaning,
As if the threshold sucks nectar.

The lonely bird on a bare tree by the desert,
Dreams the bliss of the innocence of adolescence,
And the sparks of fire, - blaze on Time!