Years have rolled on, and seasons changed, I lie on a bow of arrows whose pain avers my existence,

Her distant image brings glimpses of happiness, but thoughts of recrudescence of love suck the faintest existence of my life.

The moon who comes to my doorstep and the cuckoo who coos at my window are my witnesses,

For those days when I intemperately fell and again fell, blinded by her shadow which always stood beside me.

The kisses that glistened and the warmth of intimacy she bore for me,

How did I fail to realize those were a punitive expedition carried on every inch of my soul?

Every curve of my road, I saw her smile; seldom understood, I was getting entangled in her curve of iniquitous love.

The nights were longer, and let the sun fade forever, she insisted,

Little did I know that she would leave me in that fadedness alone.

The soul lives after death; be rational, they said, plucking my arrows,

I exist even after my soul is dead, I scoffed, falling on the sharp edges again.

I wait in the corner with my arrows bleeding as the moon arrives; let my star twinkle now!

Nevertheless, my rapacious heart still gasps for bliss in her form,

How do I tell him?

Poor heart hardly knows the journey she took has no return.

Oh! Lady, do I call you wicked for the infinite love you had for me,

Or do I call you an Angel for leaving me to join the stars?

Unanswered!!!

My helpless organs beats and breathes with the distant mirage of hers.