THE RHYTHM OF THE BUTTERFLY Contemporary Poetry Anthology by Santosh Kumar Biswa
With no Beshrew Like the air carries the pollen to a new land, Time does take the youthful age to an end. Wake up, at any gate, minutes don't wait, Your junkie does take you, but to a lousy spot. Only the stirring remains, others be chartless And the fond regard it lacks is without philia. Hold back the juvenility, so tender it is For it's the age to build kinship and vocation. The time, once it overtakes, you are behind Like in the Sahara the Camel strives for thirst, Day and night in the darkened room alone And nobody to call, but the hungry Eagles. Have your summer starve for Noesis in value Like the busy ants to store for their winter, Then your joyful autumn shall give you fruits, That surround with bliss around your garden. The blossom, the gray snow shall cherish And winter melts your soul with no beshrew.
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