Nothing more

She had no expectation
No way of being known
Understood, loved, cared
She could only bemoan.

She was distressed at the poverty
At the shabby broken window pane
At the bareness of the damp walls
At the ugliness of the torn curtain.

In all the glow of the long reception hall
Hung with ancient silken chord
Of the large wooden cabinets
Of the dusted piano and cupboard.

She had no gowns, no jewels, nothing
She always preferred a lonely corner
Perhaps she loved nothing
That she felt made for her.

In all the triumph of her poise
I could see her somber face
The glory of her profound success
Her beauty charm and grace.

For what was elegant was her supple mind
She would have liked to be envied
To be charming, to be sought after
As if she was here by a slip of need.

All my homage and admiration
In a cloud of happiness at peak
I wished to waltz with her
I wished to plant a kiss on her rosy cheek.

Gopal Lahiri…

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