Fly-fly! O bird
Winter's gone, Spring's come
And wore a veil all who were tired,
Allover now feel at home.

You may call a day
Southern ocean- the best
Or, fly far and away
There to make a nest.

The Spring will fill you
With which has long yearned
- -Night's peace, or morn's dew;
Refreshing hope, burned.

I call you yet, again
With the weigh of life,
Against feeling of world pain-
Fleeting upon conjured leaf.

Old gratitude! Have a wing
If you are concrete at aim
Same as Krishna, the king
Filled Earth with whim.

Who call you unblithe?
Must have a naked wear!
Or, remain unprevailing in mirth
As no earthly cause is dear.

You have your own voice-
Undaunted by any cause;
Amid skies, soaring high a choice
May you make, at a pause.

Your song is never ceased to be,
As guarded by some Angel
Of fresh and clear weather; see,
They are unutterable, well.

Fly- fly! O bird, sing
Let the old bards fail
Or not jeer upon your wing
To fly ups and downs the gale.

03/18/2016
COPYRIGHT@ RESERVED BY PIJUSH BISWAS