Yet Till You Can’t Win Me My Darling! Poem by Subrata Ray

A cry springs from within with tidal tears,
Standing in the waves of loss and gain,
Seeing the entangling of repeated chains,
Of magic withering desire's brain! ,
For One beyond this love-less pilgrimage! ,
The only sustaining Hope amidst sufferings,
The cry winds round and round.

The mind was not an-always –betrayal,
With love’s tinged glow it reflected,
And faith was seeded in comrades, land,
Though harvest of deception, came by,
And that was only Love’s teaching,
For the journey, of preparation!

‘Yet you can not win me my darling’,
A voice disturbs like suspended breathing!
A cry springs, and sets restless agony,
And the sun glides towards western horizon!