by Tushar Biswas

Lost delights of mine, leave me not in unknown ways
And all of our dandled days in my fortune's hand
Winder cold wails the wrong of death delays
When cold wind blows into my desert sands

She has turned within my empty solitary hall
Into the wildest eyes, with her words got strung
There shadows were painted all along her wall
And I've never missed the taste of her soggy tongue

What your eyes carry, accent of another land?
Or her struggling mourn that I cannot hear
Your strange swarthy blush is enough to understand
The secrets behind her half drawn nature's fear

Your figures grew, where the moonbeam have shone
An imprecation was spelled when your lips met wine
My boiled tears have rode the ocean all alone
Leave me not in unknown ways, lost delights of mine

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