(Lovelia: A Sequence of Love Poems)
Lovelia (A Sequence of Love Poems) by Menonim Menonimus,
Rights Reserved with www.menonimus.org
D. T. P. By A. Shahriar, Barpeta (Assam)
In the hand of a dear one
Who has suffered
A lot in life
... Menonim Menonimus
(A Sequence of Love Poems)
My deep dear darling, my love’s monarch
I shall be a tree with spreading twigs and leaves
And thou are a creeping willow.
I shall remain standing on the roadside
And thou shall creep round me.
The wind would keep blowing over
And thou dost dance and flatter thy flag
The passerby strangers would gaze at us
In wonder they would say:
What a lovely scene this is!
I shall be a flying bee
And thou shall be a bloomed flagrant flower
I will fly and fly and fall upon thee
And suck thy honey and enjoy thy beauty.
The gardener would stand by the garden and look at us
And exclaim with joy:
What a nut-bolt matched pair of lovers they are!
I shall be the sea full of endless blue water
And thou shall be the waves and leap over me
And play hide and seek with the pebbles on the shore
The stars would peep through the darkness
And would utter in ecstasy:
What a pleasure, o what a joy!
I shall be the Moon
And thou shall be the lotus in the lake
I will shed my beams over thee
And thou shall receive them
With thy mouth gaping up being gluttonous.
The tourists would perch on the beach of the lake
And enjoy the beauteous petals
And the glory of thy beauty day and night
And would forget the weariness of a thousand miles.
Would thou not be the yellow light
If I shall be the morning sun?
Would thou not look more beautiful than a Rainbow?
Would thou and I not be what we wish to be?
I shall be the sky
And thou be its fathomless blue
In our praise, all the night stars would sing a song
It is love, the inspiration of which makes us live ever young. 0 0 0
I’ve no sorrow of my own
I am coloured by the sorrows of thine
I’ve ever wept for thy comforts
I am bled and the drops of blood flow
Through my breast to my feet
Yet I’ve no sorrow of my own
I’ll never cry for my own
If I ever cry, I’ll cry for thee
Lovelia, my bosom maid
Thou art my sole source of joy in times of well and woe.
I am amid the whirlpool of weary ocean
My mates and comrades
My kith and kins stand against me,
Against my love to thee.
All accuse me of the crime of a philanderer
All begin to hate me, forsake me and wink at me
I’m like a mather-flower used nowhere
Dear Lovelia, yet I’m happy as thou art mine
Thou art my utter surviving source without a substitute
That keeps me living.
Let the entire world stand against me en masse
Yet I’ll have the spirit to live for thee, my only hope
Don’t turn thy eyes from me
If thou forsake me
Let the light of my life be put out
I want not to live a moment more
If thou art not mine. 0 0 0
Note: ‘Mather-flower‘ is a kind of flower which has no fragrance and is neither sucked by bees nor praised by poets nor is it used in any rituals.
Many a sun shining morning I’ve enjoyed
With dews glittering as a piece of pearl on the green grass
With the bright blossomed beautiful flowers with tender buds
Looking at them my heart used to dance in heavenly joy
And in wonder I exclaimed:
O what a joy, what a scene of beauty God has ever created!
With that morning scene, my whole days spent in ecstasy
My sorrows went away flying like a flight of birds.
My pain dried up like the water-vapour
And then I cried out in joy:
With such a source of beauty, there is but no object to compare
But now my sense of beauty has changed
After having come into contact with thee
O, my Lovelia thou art ever living fixed morning
Thy face is more shinning than the yellow sun
The morning sun remains intact only for an hour
But thy face remains ever glittering to me
The sun shines on the external objects of Nature
But the rays of thy beauty enlighten the heart of things and mine.
To compare the beauty of the morning
With that of thy face
One must bow down and burst out in wonder:
The sun is as dark as the moonless night
The beauty of thine is as mighty as a god
Even the single ray which drives away
The entire darkness of the underworld. 0 0 0
Why should I need to make new friends?
Why should I need to bear my former friends in my mind?
Why should I need to talk of my mates and colleagues?
Thou, my love- longed Lovelia is my all
All my love is bestowed upon thy heart.
All the source of my affection that had been on me
Is enshrined on thee.
If thou love me alone
It would mean that I’m loved by all.
All the sources of the beauty of my friends are engraved in thy bosom
And if I look on thee it is equal to looking at all my friends
Thou art, to me, a living brook
And I – its wavy torrents.
I dance and dance and make waves upon waves to make thee happy
For thy joy, I sing song being a bird to thy heart
I’m a vassal to thy joy and pleasure
Call me and I’m to thee- whether thou art near or away from me. 0 0 0
Wert thou not that Helen for whom
Thousand young Princes went mad?
Yes, thou wert that Helen for whom
A thousand battle-ships were overthrown
Yes, thou wert that Helen for whom
Thousand Princes had lost their throats
And met their immature death.
Thou wert that Helen for whom
The city of Troy burnt into ashes.
As that Helen thou wert an emblem of sole beauty for all ages-
And it was thy beauty for which thy heart went arrogant
And for thy arrogance thou could love none
And for that none could love thee but thy beauty alone
But God kindly wiped away thy surplus beauty
In this second edition and thus has cut down thy pride
And thus God kindly makes thee suited to me.
I love thy humble heart, not thy muddy body-
For which everybody takes passion
Now being thy flesh not so charming
Thou have no love-competent- but only I
Eager to build a new Troy. 0 0 0
Being my heart-ship with thee
I have forsaken my friendship with them
Who were in my bosom
Now I am away from their favour,
I’m away from their warm affection
I’m away from sharing their smile
Yet I’m happy along with thee.
Thy smile is my wealth,
Thy whispering is my music
In the realm of love thou art the Empress
Who sways over not only the heart that bears love
But also the hearts that bear no love
Even thou bring under control the minutest dust and grass
And in thy kingdom, I’m a marigold
That blooms in the sun-light
And disseminates fragrance throughout night.
Why should I need friends
Where thou art my all-
My guide, my maid, my stick, my moon in dark,
My caterer in heart’s hunger
I’ve lost my freedom-
Oh, no! Why should I need to aspire for freedom
Where I’ve no separate entity.
I’m in thee and thou art in me-
I respire in thine, thou in mine
We are a plant of flowers-
Thou art its fragrance
I’m its petals
Thou art the boughs, I’m the leaves. 0 0 0
Thou may not believe in my love to thee
Whether my love is true or false-
Thou may ask me again and again
But I’ll remain silent to thy query
Where are the words and phrases enough
To suit the passion of love to express to thy ears?
My love to thee is as vast as the heart of Virgin Mary
Who took upon her head all the stains
That the world could throw upon a virgin mother-
Yet she loved and nursed the Son
With the purest warmth of her heart.
I love thee like that of the Beacon of Asia
Who loved every love-stricken man
And blessed with the message of redemption.
My love to thee is like that of Krishna
Who kept his beloved always within.
If yet thou believe not, keep thy ears to my bosom
And hear the pulsation of my sea-like blue love
That sings only the song of thy praise.
O yet if thou believes not- let me die for thy joy. 0 0 0
Note: ‘Beacon of Asia’ refers to Lord Buddha, the founder of Buddhism.
I’m waiting for thee so a long while
Hast thou come stealthily?
Dost thou fear anybody?
It is dark- nobody will see thee coming
Even the moon is beclouded
And the stars are in favor of our love
They are twinkling only for your pleasure
But emits no light.
Come when the sun is beyond the horizon
By the sub-lane singing the song of inspiration
Sometimes play on thy silver whistle
To make me know beforehand of thy silent coming
I’ll be waiting with the finest garlands of divine flowers
To welcome thee under the Jasmine Plant
Why should we need to hide our love from the world?
Dost thou forget that it is our love
With which the world inhales and keeps up its appearance?
If thou come by the bank of the lake
The lotus of which would dance for thy joy
Come with a heart full of strength to meet
All the opponents and foes of our divine affection.
And let the entire world see-
In the realm of Love
I am the King and thou art the Queen. 0 0 0
Our love to each other is like the poles of the Earth
The earth has but no rest-
It has two duties of its own:
It revolves round the sun and round its axis
Keeping the backbone towards the north-west direction
It travels far and wide but never turns its head
My bones and flesh may go away from thee
But it means not that I go away from you
My head may turn opposite to thee
But think- the eyes of my love is always towards thee
When I set off my travelling to the far-off lands
My feet walk onwards but my heart retreats
And take shelter in thy heart
When I walk through hot and cool
My heart remains save in the moderate temperature of thy chest
As thy heart is in my bosom wherein my heart is in safe. 0 0 0
If thou art coming
Please don’t be afraid of the street strangers
Come on straight
Art thou not mad of love for me?
Please come on at bright mid-day as if everybody can mark thee
And may whisper to ears to ears:
Look at- it is she who has no equal in love.
Would not thou come?
Lovelia, no fear- I’m waiting for thee since the full moon
Let thy veil be half-opened
And thy eyes be twinkled that
I can recognize thee from far off distance
And run up to thee to receive thee
Do you wish the garland of flowers from me?
Alas! I’m so poverty-stricken
Say- how can I collect thread and needle to knit a garland for thee
Please don’t wish to smile on my lips
As my smile is bestowed on thy eyes
Let me look at thee
Let me stare at thee and let me live. 0 0 0
Lovelia, look at me
To keep watch on thee-
How I’ve been suffering day after day, night after night
The chill falls down upon my head, feet and hands
And it makes me tremble like a naked lion in winter.
To keep thy Will’s chastity intact
I welcome the fear of dark night
I make my love-competent afraid of my sharp sight
And drive them away.
Now everybody of them postpones following thee
And hide on thy back
None whistles to draw thy heed, none plays on their pipes.
In favor of thee, I’ve forsaken my sleep and comforts, my tones and songs
Thou art asleep and I am upon the thorns guarding thee.
Look at me- I’m bled and my eyes turned red.
But Lovelia, if thou art willing to violate thy God-blessed will
Then let me know
I’m undone yet I feel peace
When I think- thou art mine
I forget my night’s labour when thou wink at my foes
I’m most blessed if thou art mine
And most unfortunate if thou art, not mine. 0 0 0
Why, O Lovelia, should thou not love one of thy lovely many?
Why dost thou not do love with thy loveliest one?
Have thou not a pair of eyes-
Look, the pairs of birds flying
The flock of birds is flying in pairs on this spring morning
Only thou art alone- though thou have someone nearest to thy soul.
It is love that makes life perfect and happy
Dispense thy resource of entire love
To him with whom thou art in love
If thou dost hate me or loves me not
Forsake me forever
Even my bliss would go to thee
If thou love me truly sacrifice thy fickle will.
As the sea takes up all those things that float on it
I’ll so take thee up in my heart
Not all who come to me like the gluttonous sea
But only thee.
Here, in my heart I’ll preserve thee,
Protect thy will and love thee forever.
But my dear darling if thou love me- love me alone
Love is a feeling that can never be quelled
And love that is to two or more is no love at all. 0 0 0
If I were a painter!
I would have painted thy beauty spending hundred and thousand years
I would have compiled the dyes from the morning sun to paint thy forehead
I would have dug into the inner heart of the Arabian hills
And would have collected the deep dark coal to paint thy long hair
I would have gone to Kashmir, the heaven of Earth
And had fetched the reddish cheery to paint thy two cheeks
If I had means and I were a painter
I would have travelled up to the sky
And have snatched away all the blues to paint thy eyes.
I would have cut off the sharpest utmost peak of the Pyramid
And had welded to thy nose.
If I had the hand of Vinci-
I would have set aside all my other pursuits
And had painted only thy portrait
I would have taken thee to the sea-side
And made thee stand on the very brim of the sea
Where the sea waves play hide and seek
And then I would have painted thee.
Had I the skill of the hand of Angelo
I would have poured down all my art- skill to portray thee.
I would have painted thee and have placed thee in the sky
Upon a satellite so that all the world
Could look at thee and wonder at thy boundless beauty
What is Monalisa to You?
Generation after generation would have stared at thee and exclaimed:
What a piece of queer wonder it is!
To enjoy thy portrait the Moon would have come down to thy forehead
And praise thee for four hundred years
If I had the scrutinized skill of Picasso
I would have painted thee
In such a way that might attract the Angels of Heaven
They would have come down and overcrowded around thee.
O what not I desire to immortalize thee, my dear darling! 0 0 0
The mid-day with the bright sun is as dark as an adder
And as black as a cuckoo
If thou art away from me.
The deep dark night is as bright as the mid-day sun
If thou art in presence of I.
If thou art with me- I can see both the Heaven and Earth
With their minutest atoms closing my easy eyes
Thou art ever shining source of light to my heart and soul, eyes and mind.
In the presence of thee, my tears turn into pearls
And my weeping heart turns into an incessant tone of music
My pain turns into my comfort
My pale visage turns into a smooth-looking glass
On which every curious heart can see its reflection.
If thy vision is away from me- my joys turn into pains
My smiles turn into tears.
My musical voice turns into a suffocated voice.
Thou art the sun in my sky rounding which my joys and sorrows,
My smiles and tears revolve.
Thou art the token of my fortune, of my omen- my good and evil
If thou art with me- I can drink the most deadly poison with a smiling face
And die in comfort.
My Lovelia, if thou art with me I can sacrifice my entire entity
And can sacrifice my years and months, days and nights, hours and minutes.
If thou art with me – all the universe are with me
And if thou art away from me all the worlds are away from me
And even I’m not within me.
When thou art with me it is my day
When thou art away from me it is my night
If thou art with me – I’m alive
And if thou art away from me I’m dead
Thou art my entire entity. 0 0 0
I’m accused of a heinous crime as Napoleon was of heroic victory
The crime that I’m accused of is that I love thee
All my kith and kins and of thine are hostile to me
I’m out of their favor, I’m despised, I’m outcasted
I’m out of the warm affection of my mates and friends only for thee.
I’m like a fallen down yellow leaf unnoticed, unused,
Uncounted- trodden even by the pedestrians
I’m now like the salty water of the sea undrinkable, unwished
Only for my love to thee- my beauty turns to ugliness
My similes turn into a faltering voice
My virtues to vices
I’m undone, I’m forlorn!
I’m in seclusion
What is the Goddess of Fortune to me?
It stands as a curse for loving thee
I all alone have to bewail my lot, my forehead
Yet I wish to be living for thy love
Let me be cursed, despised, outcasted again and again
I’ve no sorrows, no sighs, no wail
It is thy love that enables me to derive peace in utter chaos
It is thy love that makes me endure all the burden of the earth
You are the greatest resource of my joys and mirth. 0 0 0
Where is my repose- my leisure, my peace, my comforts?
I’m always weary of business, weary of hard toil,
Weary of keeping me awake like a vigilant sentinel
At night also I’ve but not even the least repose.
I’ve no sleep- when I try to shut my eyelids-
The vision of thy face begins to dance on my eyes
And compels my eyes to keep awake and open
And then thy memory begins to talk with me
And begins to play the role of love
That utters dialogues after dialogues which have no words
But from the heart to heart
You speak and I hear
And I speak and you hear.
My two hands with sharpest swords keep awake
And watch thy beauty and limbs against thy love competent.
I chase them, I wink at them, I rebuke them,
I condemn them,
I beat them and make them retreat
Thou art mine and mine only
Thy beauty is my wealth, my pride, garments to my limbs. 0 0 0
Thou and I are one and one is thy love and mine
As a flowering plant- the leaves and the boughs belong to the same plant
Only for bodily advantage-
God has bestowed upon us separate skin and bones
But our hearts are one
Half of thy heart is in my bones and skin
And half of my heart is in thine
I always bear thy wills with me and you that of mine.
Blind are they who see only our corporal bodies
And ignore our same soul
Our hearts are like the flowing water of a hilly spring
That flows and flows but never meets an end
Thou art my own body and soul
If I hate myself- it means that I hate thee
And If I love myself it means that I love thee
We are like the rainbow in the morning sky-
The Rainbow that bears twelve colours in itself-
It is called not by the names of its colours
But by a name that constitutes all the colours’ glory. 0 0 0
As is the sun-lit to the moon-lit
As is water to the lotus
So are you to my life and love.
As is the flesh to the bones so are you to me
When you weep- I weep
When you suffer pain- I suffer so
When thou laugh and smile – so do I
I’ve but no individual entity – I’m alive because thou art alive
Thy sorrows are mine, thy joys are mine
When you shed tears, my eyes do the same
When you keep awake- it is the day for me
When you lie in bed and sleep- it is the night for me
When you sing, my heart begins to whistle
When you wink- it is hell for me
When you look at me- it is heaven for me
I’ve no life; I’ve no death of my own
When you respire- it is life for me
When you sigh- it is death for me
I’m in you; my soul is on thy soul
My fortune is on thy forehead
Except thee, I’m a stone statue. 0 0 0
Let thy heart be consoled receiving my trifling gift
Though it is a nuisance if compared to that of thine
Mine is like a drop of water in the vast ocean
And thine is like a lake of milk which does never dry
Look at me, my Lovelia- I’m storm-stricken, poverty-beaten
I’ve drowned down the depth of mud
I’m moribund- in such a state what can you expect from me?
Heart- what men say to be precious
Has already been gifted to thee
You may think my gift a trifle
But for me, it is the part of my limb cut off for thy sake.
Oh! Had I riches- I would have gifted all the stars
All the diamonds of Mars and Jupiter
What I can’t do for thee!
Look at my lips- I smile
While my eyes make another Atlantic shedding salty drops
For thy sake, I can hide off all my sorrows and can invoke all my joys
Take my trifle and let me feel I’m received by thee. 0 0 0
Thou art a garland of the finest flowers of the earth and Heaven
Adorned for the General by his King after being won a brave battle
I’m surrounded by a queue of people
And I am welcomed as the bravest warrior.
Thou art for me the transparent sky after hail-storm at night
Where thousand and one stars are twinkling shedding silver light
To enlighten my dark breast
Thou art the ocean full of waves
Where boats and ships sail in quest of gold and knowledge.
Thou art for me an everlasting spring in winter
That keeps me fresh, lively and makes me worth living
Thou art for me the hoary snow of the Himalaya by the heat of the sun
That melts and flows down to wash off the dirt of the earth
Thou art for me a piece of tablet
That embalms my wound heart and makes me comfortable.
Thou art for me a book of philosophy studying which
I can learn all the wisdom that man can aspire
Thou art the beginning of my wisdom and the end of my ignorance. 0 0 0
Which god has made thee?
Endless thanks to him
Thou art made with all the elements of gorgeous beauty
If I compare thee with the sun-bathed morning dew would be poor
If I compare thy eyes with fully bloomed lake-lotus
It will hide its petals being ashamed of
What is the moonlight in front of the grace of thy face?
It is only the shadow of thy back
The beauty of the Earl had been withered
If thou wert present at that hours
Shakes would have neglected his friend’s beauty
If he happened to see thy shade once
And throughout all his lines he certainly would have spent
All his strength and spirit to adorn thee.
Even our Lord Krishna would have forgotten
His friendships with Arjuna
If thou had been born at that time
Even Adonis, Lora and Fahad would have bowed down on thy feet
As a narrator of thy beauty, I’m unfortunately a failure
And the poets to come would say:
What a sorry figure had been cut by this poor but brave poet.
But yet throughout all my futurity
The name of this poor poet would be quoted-
As one who tried his best to find out an affinity of thy grace. 0 0 0
Lovelia, thou art a piece of poetry
As poetry lulls a whining baby on his mother’s lap
So art thou to me.
While I weep in woe, cry in need and shed tears in pain
The image of thine stands up in front of me
And keeps the tender hand upon me and lulls me to sleep.
As a dilettante buys a book of verse
And read aloud in joy and delight
So thou art to me.
I’m a violin- player and thou art the tone to it
I play on it and forget the weariness of the dreary damp days.
Thou art my eye-sight when I’m blind
Lovelia, thou art a book studying which
I can learn all that the books of philosophy can teach. 0 0 0
All the moments, all the hours, all the nights, all the days
You are in my mind and even in sleep I keep thee in my memory
Thy memory is with me even while I inhale and exhale
And while I drink and eat.
While I’m at my ceaseless deeds or in my restless rest
The poverty-stricken wretched faces of my parents
Appear in front of my eyes
And only then I forget all the worlds with the bright stars
How pathetic and troubled-hissed the life of my progenitor was!
He is dead (may his soul rest in peace)
And as a legacy, he has left the same running woes
I’m his best heir and have been enjoying his legacy properly
Lovelia, no doubt, love’s wing is swifter than the speed of light
But swiftest is the poverty that can set fire both in heart and belly
Lovelia, I’m fire-burnt and have been turned into a piece of burning coal
Lovelia, leave me otherwise the same fire would burn thee. 0 0 0
For my sole friendship with thee
Hundreds of my men have become my enemies
But my Lovelia, I don’t care a fig
Let them say against us, let them sing against us
Let them slander us, let them label against us
Let the world stand against our love-making
Let me be crowned with the thorns
Let me drink the pot of insult
Yet I’ll be loving thee.
My love is as true as the blue of the sky
As white as the Himalayan snow
As pure as the dew, as lively as the evergreen shrubs
If thou art mine- none can snatch thee away from me
Thou art the part and parcel of my soul
If divided both of us would die
Let our love live long proudly
Overcoming all the obstacles and enmity.
That love is the best whose enemies are many. 0 0 0
Don’t go out in the sun –
The ultra-violet rays may cause you harm
Don’t go out in the rain-
It may infect thee fever
Don’t walk out in the street-
The strangers may abduct thee
Don’t swim in the river-
The water-current may float thee away
Lovelia, don’t loiter in the public park-
Somebody may be mad of your beauty
Don’t look at the lake’s lotus-
It must close its petals out of shame.
Don’t be fickle- it may carry defame on thee
Don’t laugh more-
It may stand against thy beauty’s fame
Don’t go out in the dark-
The nymph of the night may hurt thee
Lovelia, come into my heart-
Here I’ll safeguard thee forever
My love will keep thee always well and warm. 0 0 0
Glass is brittle, brittle is the pot made of clay
And brittle is the rampart made of sands
But more brittle is the heart of a woman
If one gives all the possible comforts to his sweet-heart
For the whole ages must be forgotten
If her loved one turns his eyes away from her for a day.
Lovelia, thou art a woman and so brittle is thy heart
I turn my eyes away for a moment not hating thee
But because by doing so, I deepen my love to thee
I’m like the sun and so is my love
That moves from east to west across the sky
But never forgets to rise in the east again
But then why dost thou weep so pathetically
You may doubt that the earth is round
You may doubt on a mother’s love to her child
You may doubt that the Himalayas is the Peak of Heaven
But never doubt me that I’ll forget thee
Hence let thy brittle heart be strong enough like a stone- statue
And proclaim in pride- my love partner is my bone and skin. 0 0 0
The sun shines at day but you shine all the while:
Both day and night.
While the sun rises- it borrows the light of thy limbs
And then enlightens the earth
At night while the sun sets,
The stars borrow the glow and grace of thy eyes
And then they begin to twinkle and shine
Look at the sky-
The greens and the blues are the reflections of your forehead
The late spring’s cloud’s colour is the reflection of your black long hair
While you smile all the flower plants
Catch it soon and preserve it to exhibit when the petals open their mouths
The music that we hear is the resonance of your voice
The songs of all the birds are the echo of your veins and pulse
O, God! Immortalize her to make us live and love. 0 0 0
The lotus is beautiful, the rose is more beautiful
But most beautiful is you, my Lovelia
The lotus has fragrance, the rose bears more fragrance
But you have the most.
For your beauty the young world becomes eccentric
Some run after thee, some become jealous of thy opponents
The beauteous objects of the earth are many
All are transient
But you are the only one whose beauty shall remain forever.
My tiresome verses would play the roles of thy revival.
The morning is pleasing; the more pleasing is the spring morning
But most pleasing is you to all who bear hearts to feel
You may not be dressed with fair skin
But your eyes are made of the elements of heavenly rays.
Beauty lies not on the eyes
But in the heart which an ugly dress may hide under
Lovelia, had I been blessed with the strength of a poet
I would have spent some million years
To reveal the mystery of your strange beauty
O Saraswati! Let me be blessed with thy favor and enable me
To portray the grace of my dear darling. 0 0 0
Note: ‘Saraswati’ is the goddess of arts and poetry in Indian mythology.
When I’ll die, O my Poverty, with whom would you live?
Then who would be your company?
Perhaps everybody would despise you
And try to avoid you as we flee from wild elephant
Then you would suffer the pain of loneliness
And then you would weep in woe
You would have to spend your hours in hunger
So, O my mate, my Poverty eat on me, drink on me
Squeeze my blood and sip as much as you can
My everything is yours and use me as you like
I’m your mate and friend
I spend every moment with you
You are my part and parcel-if I die who would nurse you?
Poverty, you keep me awake at mid-night
You are my co-mate
You are with me while at work, while at leisure
And even while I am in sleep.
I fear if you leave me- who would inspire me to suffer
You may stick at me as long as I live
But O Poverty! Please never be the mate of my Lovelia
She would abhor you
Then I would be accused of hating you.
Please make me your ever mate and leave my Lovelia in comfort. 0 0 0
You are away from me for a fortnight
And this fortnight is a course of fifteen thousand weary years for me
During these weary years-
I’ve suffered most, wept most, kept awake most
And I turned into a desert laying far away from human reach
Where no cloud showers, no tree grows, no bird flies
It is only you that can turn a desert into a fertile plain
Where trees with evergreen leaves grow in abundance
You are an infinite resource of cloud
That gives life to dry and moribund crops
Why have you played the role of a cruel antagonist?
And play hide and seek with him who is dead?
I’m a harp that gets tone when your presence touches it
Long winter has trodden on my love-stricken heart
And I’m about to die
My heart bleeds and I’m turned into an ocean of red blood
If you love me truly- why keep yourself away from me?
Come to me erelong and let me breathe. 0 0 0
Why do you use false painting?
Where all the dyes of Nature are extracted out of your beauty
Have you forgotten your own worth?
In your former birth, you had been a plant
Borrowing whose scent the god has given birth to
All the plants of fragrant flowers.
You need not take cosmetics whereas you yourself are the resource
Of all the cosmetics manufactured by the companies
If you do so you would be accused of the crime of self-deception
Where is the competent of the beauty of your lips?
Where are the similes of your cheeks?
Your two cheeks are more reddish than a pair of cherries
And thy lips are more fascinating than that of a parrot
Your two eyes are two twinkling stars
That shine on the face of the sun
And then its reflection enlightens the universe.
Let your beauty remain original
As original as the black dye of your hair.
Dost thou not know?
Beauty painted is the beauty corrupted. 0 0 0
On your face depends my joys and sorrows,
Smiles and tears, life and death
Lovelia, you are my sun-
When you shine on me- my life begins
And begins my joys and smiles
When you turn your face or set on the western horizon-
My sorrow begins and begins my pain
Enjoying your single smile
I can forget my thousand sour sorrows.
I’m in your hand a toy- you throw it while your play is over
I’m in your hand a piece of flower
You tear it off for your sports
Lovelia, why are you so cruel?
You are my woe and my well. 0 0 0
You may forsake me, but I’ll never
You may wound me with the sharpest knife
I’ll bear with two lips smiling.
Make me destitute of everything
Yet I’ll wish to live long only to love you
I’ll love you to the last moment of the running time
Though at mid-day the sun sets down
And it becomes dark and darker.
Let the earth be eclipsed by the sun for centuries
Yet I’ll never cease to love you
If the pain and agony of separation trouble me
I’ll weep and cry and shed tears and tears
Till a new Pacific takes birth
You may turn against me and sentence me to death
Yet I’ll be loving thee.
You may bite me being a serpent
Yet I’ll wish your peace and happiness
If death comes to me and takes me off
Yet I’ll endeavour my best to throw my love to your heart.
Lovelia, the first-born flower of spring may curse me
Yet I’ll pray to God to bless thee
Give me affliction, wail and woe
I’ll put them up on my head
And preserved them in my chest as your bliss
I’ll not cease to love thee though the water of the seas goes dry
And all the snows of the Mighty Himalaya melt away
And inundate the green Earth.
Hate me, wound me, bite me, beat me, and kill me
Yet I’ll be loving thee
Love, if true is ever ready to bear
All the misfortunes that may come in life. 0 0 0
As the rain is to the driest land
So is thy memory to my broken heart
The rain falls down on the earth
And moisturizes the moribund crops and blesses them with fresh life
So is thy presence to me.
Life is but the reflected light of the sun
Upon the moon that in sympathy throws to the dark night
And enlightens the path of the strangers.
But love is the heat that keeps life warm and makes worth living
Thy love to me is my soul and entity
Lovelia, live long and let me live
Thy love is the fixed source of light
That guides my half-broken bark in the dark ocean
But my Lovelia, why dost thou hide thyself from me
And lead me astray? 0 0 0
With whom shall I compare thee?
The volcano that nurses the source of heat and fire
Hardly gets matched with you
Placing my entire existence on thee
I’ve been bestowed with only the sea of sorrows
My owes have increased
My impeach has ten times multiplied
My eyes turn into the lake of hot water
My heart is torn nine times by the sword of thy sight.
Thou, my fresh flower, has turned into a black bee
That sucks honey out of every flower
Leaving its poison, in turn, makes it suffer. 0 0 0
Every fresh-water well nurses mud in its bed
Every flagrant flower has its thorns
And even in a mother’s heart, there is anger
So is your fault, sins and crime to me
You are ever pardoned with all your faultful futurity.
It is love that makes me weep
It is love that makes me smile
It is love that makes me fly up to the stars
It is love that makes me sink under the sorrowful sea
And it is love that makes me live
It is love that makes me live through living death.
I being the slave of thy love
Can turn my sorrows into a source of joy
And misfortunes into fortunes.
Though whimsical, a burglar, pirate thou art to me
Yet thou art the Lordess of my ever-young love
In spite of all thy hostility-
I’m richer than all the Emperors when I think of thee. 0 0 0
Lovelia, I spend my days and nights after thee
As the light spends its hours after the sun
And the night after the dark.
When you are asleep forgetting the day’s weariness
And forgetting my loves to thee
I stay awake pacing under the open sky.
Had you known how much woe is there in my heart?
You are the robber that robes no coin, no rupee, no riches
But soul and heart and send his victim to eternal loss
When at black night you make merriment with my opponents
Then I die with sighs
Thy laughter is my tears
Thy generosity to others is my poverty.
What is the case?
When I look at your face- you show your back
When I approach thee you go far away from me
Yet I follow you-
It is love that has turned me blind. 0 0 0
If you love me- love me whole-heartedly
I like not the twilight- but either dark or light
In the dark, I close my eyes up
And see with the eyes of my heart
And when I see with the eyes of my heart-
I see none but only thee.
How do you dare to divide your love?
You are the flower bloomed in my heart
Say: who would allow himself to tear off his heart?
If your love is true to me-
I’m wealthier than the bosom of the richest gold-mine
If your love is half to me-
I’m poorer than the moon devoid of air, water and life.
Lovelia, if you love me- love me with all your heart
Otherwise, let me die. 0 0 0
You often say: Don’t spend your hours keeping your eyes on me
Oh, Lovelia! Think of me-
How can I live losing my own entity?
You love me but like the winnowing wind
That blows over vales and hills
Breaking the buds and boughs of trees.
Lovelia, believe me!
I don’t keep my eyes on thee but on my own heart
Which is bestowed on thee.
If my love is betrayed
Say, how would I keep my soul living?
I’m like a fountain pen in the hand of a poet
Who uses it under his own will
If my love is thine- yield it as you like
But let me be free from the anxiety of losing my will
As is a stone for a stranger, as is a star for a wandering bark
As is the sun to the light
So are you to me
I’m in your hand- a piece of handkerchiefs it as you like
But my entreat is that- keep it clean. 0 0 0
I love you- in turn, I demand nothing
Divine is our love
As spontaneous as the air, as free as the sands of the desert.
Why should you protest- our divine love would cease
If I go away from thee
Whereas my heart is made of thy own elements
It is always inclined to thee
The wings of my love are swifter than the swiftest horse on earth
It is even swifter than the rays of light
I can travel to thee while I wish
And can go away when occasion needs.
My heart throbs, my eyes make an ocean, my feet become feeble
When I want to go away from thee.
Let me leave thee for my hungry belly
On the way, if my last hour seize me
O my Lovelia, I’ll remain standing on the threshold of heaven.
Physically I may die but our love is immortal
My soul would pursue you until the end of time. 0 0 0
Either in Heaven or in the earth the most forlorn is he-
Whose love is betrayed.
Love is a feeling- as much as one tries to deviate his mind
So much it sticks at his Sweet.
Love is a power that can easily break the chain of gravitation
And can show- how heroic it is!
Love is so much deep that the depth of the ocean is shallow
If compared to it.
Lovelia, I’m so much engaged with your spirit
That I’ve no feeling of my own
I’ve eyes but I see not
And your betrayal to me is your loyalty.
In true love all the crags are plain
As the far-off mountain is. 0 0 0
Thy cloud-like dark hair is turning grey
Thy flesh becoming wrinkled, thy eyes bulging
Thy neat skin is turning coarse and squalid
And thy tight hips are turning loose
And thy beauty is falling down like the summer shower
But our love remains the same
As young as it was in the initiatives.
Feel me- I’m still loving thee.
The world may be upturned
The sun may cease to shine
The sea may move up to the mountain
The highest hills may fall headlong on the ground
But I’ll never stop my loving
I love thee with all thy misfortunes. 0 0 0
Lovelia, let us hatch and yield fruits of our love
Look we are becoming old, decrepit, despised
And neglected by the youths
Erelong, sooner or later
We’ll die and our beauty will die with us
And leave this mortal earth
Then the world would feel weak, rude, lorn and poor
Come let me plough thy fertile field
And let us produce fruit
That will preserve your beauty and my love to thee
Let us look on our fruit’s face in our despised old age
As we look at our image in a mirror
If it happens so, we’ll say aloud in pride:
Here lies our beauty, here lies our love
Let me engraft my youth’s aspirations and art
And let me feel victorious as a peasant.
Like the ever glorified rose-
He will be glorified everywhere for being borne
Your purest beauty in him
If we don’t do so- we’ll die and our love will die with us
For not being able to be well-preserved. 0 0 0
Thy fleshy mud and cell being hackneyed
Affords less taste to that of mine or vice versa
But obstinate is my soul- it looks at nothing external
Neither at thy flesh nor at thy hidden secrets
It only looks at thy heart.
So while my flesh turns away from that of thine
My soul flees to thee.
Now I’ve been suffering from the dilemma-
Whether I support my flesh or my soul
Day and night this conflict continues
And now I’m war-beaten, war-stricken
If I support my flesh- it’ll keep thee away
If I support my soul- it’ll keep thee always in me
I’m a man made of both mud and spirit
O, God what will I do?
Let me have my love or let me die. 0 0 0
Two loves are in me:
One for my motherland and the other is for my Lovelia
Whom would I take up and whom would I forsake?
Love for both is in my blood.
The conflict between the two continues in me
I’ve no sleep, no joy, no comfort
My mind is burning within
My hunger loses its gusto
My eyes cease to see
What would I do now?
Would I keep to my Lovelia where my soul is kept?
Or to the Motherland that generously bears me in her womb? 0 0 0
Love is a cup of liquid
That tastes sweet while drunk
But when it enters the belly it becomes poison
And causes ceaseless agony.
Love is like water when it gets cold begins to freeze
And when gets heat begins to melt.
Love is a dish of food that never digests
If devoured, comes out through the throat being sighs
And through the eyes being tears.
Love is a volcano that hatches coal and oil
And gets flamed when burst out.
Love is like the rainbow in the sky
That exists only for some moments
But remains long in the memory. 0 0 0
My hard hand kept its fingers on thy swelling chest
And thou hold my fleshless finger tight with the silent consent
I kept my long lips on thy tender cheeks
You welcomed them with eyes closed up.
We spoke to ourselves and exchanged words
That got never expressed
I pressed on thy swelling limb
And you bore with bitter-sweet patience
We wept not, we smiled not
Yet all were done
Such were our preliminaries of both joys and pain
Love grows as a plant grows, blooms bear fruits
And spread fragrance. 0 0 0
As you treat yourself so you will be treated by the Lord
Then why are you so cruel and severe to yourself?
You bear beauty, a heart so myriad, a mind so spotted
Though I’m betrayed well
Treat thyself well and live
And let the world be paid what is due
Dispense them with your dearest one
And let him be the worth owner of thy worth beauty
What is the price of beauty-
If fades away unnoticed, unenjoyed.
Lovelia, don’t kill, don’t be so much cruel
If you can love and extinct death. 0 0 0
Come out of thy confined cell
Open your eyes and awaken thy senses
And feel and look at the sky-
The twinkling stars are playing with their mates and maids
The young moon is playing with the grey coloured clouds
The red roses have bloomed spreading their
Fresh, fair, fragrant petals
The birds are flying over the house roof
In pairs rejoicing in their sense of love
The crickets are singing in the street
Adding their tone to the rippling sound of the monsoon wind
All are ready for thy pleasure.
Cease to weep and be consoled
I’ll never forsake thee.
Come out and enjoy them shaking off the black desire of death
If you die premature- nature with all her objects of beauty
Will weep to die being an orphan. 0 0 0
O, all-devouring Death turn thy chariot
Have you not seen the blood-sucking leeches
Eating up the apple of life?
Chase them, seize them, carry them to Hell
Seize the beauty of flowers or the light of the sun
Take off the green leaves of the evergreen trees
And make the world bereft of life-
I will have no objection.
Turn the day into night,
The seas into the plateau,
Turn the green grass into seared yellow-
I’ll never feel woe.
But not come to my Lovelia ere we leave
A track of ever-glorified love behind us. 0 0 0
Had I been a poet- I would have compared thy beauty
With the beauty of an Autumn morning
I would have compared the deep scent of thy forehead
With the pervasive scent of the night queen
And thy eye-brow with the marigold.
Had I been blest with the gift of verses
I would have compared the blue of thy eye-ball
With the blue of the apparent Autumn sky
And thy cheeks with the brighter brim of dawn
And thy two swelling balls with two pieces of Kashmiri pomegranates.
Alas! I’m deprived of such stamina.
Otherwise, all the past poets might have withered
And all the future poets would have ceased to be born
Being ashamed of my art of glorifying thy beauty and charm. 0 0 0
Silent was my Muse, silent was my feeling, emotion and spirit
Till my heart was struck open by your love
Now I’ve woke up from my inborn sleep
And now I can see and feel
But it is too late—
Thy love has bestowed flesh upon my bones
Strength to stand up on my feet and vigour to live
Now my silent Muse can sing,
Can utter words and compile verses
What is Apollo in the contest with my Muse?
If my new-born Muse winks at-
It would fly away in dread.
My Muse makes me play with darkness
That reigned my realm so long
And has enlightened my dark cells with the atoms of utterance. 0 0 0
For whom would I preserve my poverty-stricken pieces of poetry?
And for whom would I sketch my faltering feelings?
I’m so much woe-worried that my verses may not see light
Only I know how much agony has been suffered
In hatching and bringing them out from my womb.
If, my Lovelia, thy cruelty kills me before time
And my feelings remain incomplete
And my verses in the dark
Then my mates and critics, my friends and colleagues
Would sneer at me and would say—
This pretty poet had beguiled what he ought not to yield
If it is so and I meet death before my death
Thy cruelty would be accused of it
And then my readers would shower their curses upon thee
Then all my praises for thy beauty would be proved futile. 0 0 0
Everything goes under the sway of Time
The flowers we see today must wither tomorrow
The baby that looks too pretty must grow old and die
The gorgeous palaces, the ever-glorified monuments
Must go to decay.
The high hills that stand proudly must, one day, wear away
But my Lovelia, thou art an exception and exception are my verses
My love if true shall live long through the ages
And then the devouring Death shall suffer a failure.
It is my verse the heart of whom would preserve thee well
And through the ages, thou shall be living
In the heart of my readers.
Their derived pleasure shall be thy crown
Their praise shall be thy glory
And thus with thee, my verses shall remain immortal. 0 0 0
Lovelia, my sole Muse, worshipping whom
My senses took birth, came into age and got perfection
Some philanderers may turn to a poet running after thee
And their pieces of poetry may outlive than that of mine
But that mine is replete with true love, truer appreciation of love
My poetry may not bear the cadence of prosody
It may not bear fine figures
Yet I assure mine are the lines true in feeling
Look at me- my eyes turned bulging, my figure decrepit
Sore on my brows, broken is my voice being in love with thee
Have my love competent suffered so long only for love?
If so let me not write, let me die unuttered, unsung. 0 0 0
I’ve known the seven wonders of the world are leaning toward ruin
The Heaven of the earth is being buried under the blood
Many vast royal realms have scattered down by the fury of time
And I’ve seen the green fertile woods turning into the dusty desert
The same must happen to thee, my Lovelia
One day thy hours must meet its last
And then thou shall tread on the earth no more
None will speak to thee nor will they incline to your avarice Will
And then everybody shall forget thee
But it is only in my verse
That thou shall live forever
And perusing my green verses our progeny shall remember thee. 0 0 0
The verse that comes out of the womb of love, though tender, is better
And if my verses are so born might catch honour
And if better is my lines- I think my sweaty labour is not in vain
The present world may not appreciate my bony lines
Let spring follow winter, let day follow night.
Time would pass, men and critics would die
Many would take birth with better eyes to see
And if they find something grand in my petty lines
They would wonder and say- what a mighty feeling is overlooked!
My Lovelia, if then they wish to bestow praise
All would go to thee as it is thy love and thy cruelty
That turns me to a poet
And for whose lines all gathered praises must go to thee. 0 0 0
Books of Composition by M. Menonimus:
- Advertisement Writing
- Amplification Writing
- Note Making
- Paragraph Writing
- Notice Writing
- Passage Comprehension
- The Art of Poster Writing
- The Art of Letter Writing
- Report Writing
- Story Writing
- Substance Writing
- School Essays Part-I
- School Essays Part-II
- School English Grammar Part-I
- School English Grammar Part-II..
- Dear Motherland
- White Heart Poem
- Love Poems
- Love Poems Collection
- Best Love Poems of All Times
- Meaning of Lovelia
- Love Poems for Her
- Andrew Marvell Poems
- Shakespeare’s Sonnets
- Sad Poems
- Mother’s Day Poems
- Rain Poems
- Short Love Poems