A picture for Subrata

Here, on this white canvas A Picture will be drawn, a poem.

After the deep forest, across the field, Lay a pair of milky white ponds. Black magic stones in the middle, and Surrounded by the slender love-trees.

Stepwise, from the middle of the ponds A strange yet surreal hill is rising; Continued from the deep cave roots Flows the desired breath of love.

Then a dreamy mine of pearl; When it appears from behind with the sun, Lightning flashes in the cloudless sky.

A vast signboard across the mine-shaft Gives instructions — ‘Don’t go to this way, Or there will be a loss. Leave your letters here.’

Then…

This is how this imaginary picture ends. Poet Subrata will colour it; It’s his own! We just set the frame for him.