THE SUBTLE ME - by Antima Baidya

English Poems:

 

The stormy wind may shed the withering leaves from the wish tree,

But not the happiness I have preserved so long.

As my dark locks uplift themselves to approach the storm,

I, be the fetching lass bring the norm.

 

On a mid-summer day when I play hide-n-seek,

I let the sun come and kiss my cheek.

 

When I blaze up the barren, bleak, cheerless me,

The sun also shines double in its glee.

 

Here I am the peeress of realm,

Real or imagined, the warriors of my world of glim.

 

The stormy wind may shed the withering leaves from the wish tree,

But not the happiness I have preserved so long.

As my dark locks uplift themselves to approach the storm,

I, be the fetching lass bring the norm.