UMANATH BHATTACHARYA
“Life’s like water on a lotus leaf.”
So sang our poet. But more uncertain and
fickle
Is love, I find. For no one knows when
The fragile thing will spill over. And
strange
Indeed is She who
behaves like the lotus leaf:
Indifferent and unattached
amid the showers of love.
On her delicate leaf tears sparkle.
Like dews and pearls flashes my fervid
affection.
Sometimes, it seems, as if a lotus would
bloom
Red wine, and as
intoxicating.
But suddenly it rolls down; and blood splashes
In my bosom. Does it make any difference
With the lotus leaf? Oh no. Its daintiness
Its soft green, its velvety
beauty suffer no change.
Tears leave no trace on the lotus leaf,
And fruitless is Lover’s penance to tinge her heart.