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New Paradise

 


 

Gopal Lahiri

Bilingual poet, critic, editor, writer & translator

Kolkata, India

 

Behind the horizon the light is spraying.
the sky trembles like a tear,

as if aurora lights open,
the feathered summer withers.
through the leaves a forlorn dew is falling down.

 

Moving from one place to another

the moons ride over planets in a canvas,

the colour of love-red roses draws some design

deadened by the weight of weighting,

in my dreams of bleeding sunshine..

 

Of the earth groping to its roots

quenching the thirst of the unmarked soil,

it’s the heightened senses that reveal

an infirmary of flowers of the field

cast out from the new paradise.