Don’t love me, O’ sweet, when we meet,
For there is less
Glee in achieving than in yearning.
From here it’s alluring,
The scent of your tress;
I get my joys in burning,
In pining, in longing
And in sorrow,
And waiting for each tomorrow.
I don’t want to strangle my dreams to death,
You, alone, sit in my dream castle
On an island in a grieving river;
And far below
In a dark dungeon I am thrown.
I reach out my hands without catching ye,
Ye outside smile at me.
And, lo! I wish not my hands were free.
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| Courtesy: sweet-tea-theology.com |
I shall wait…wait till the pains are so much,
That they burn themselves in their own scars,
The waters of grieving river’d calm down,
The cell would break its own bars.
Then you and I’ll live away from town,
In a small hut by a joyous brook.
We’d work, we’d eat, we’d play the deep
Game of love,
And thus at last we’d sleep.
There is less glee in achieving than yearning. Yes, for investors from the town always find a way to buy out the small hut, the brook turns out to be polluted, the work is monotonous after a few days, the food sucks, and the deep game of love…well, God wanted to give us some consolation, because it’s good while it lasts, but it mellows as we approach the sleep that we hope is full of peaceful dreams.
Nice poem!
Ha! Ha! Stan, probably you are right about the ‘reality’ in comparison to the ‘dream world’ of this poem. Do we stop dreaming because of the mundane reality? Is there no light across the tunnel? Even the great Somerset Maugham in his ‘Of Human Bondage’ concluded, “The simplest pattern, that in which a man was born, worked, married, had children, and died, was likewise the most perfect”.
Can you really say in a hundred years since Maugham wrote his greatest work, that the very definition of love and living together has changed?
Coming to your blog maybe for the second time-nice poem & what a comment,to bring one down to earth.
Thank you. I am honoured Indu
nicely scribbled ….
Jasmeet
Thank you.