The Shikara

A dream of mine painted a picture bright,

Picturesque, The heaven on earth,

Illuminates the scene, The full moon light,

And warms a fire upon the hearth.

On the Dal, A magnificent Shikara,

Still as night the pristine waters,

Breaks the charm the floating Shikara,

Cuts through the surface in ripples and splatters!

The green of algae, A deceptive sheath,

Underneath relics of affluent times,

Atop the carvings, A wretched man blithe,

In stark contrast, Struggles to rhyme!

He sings about the older day,

In the words of a wandering minstrel,

'To her, The red of the apples strayed,

And adorned my dreams with festive tinsel!'.

Remnants of a man and a grizzled mane,

Perched on the edge, In masterful stance,

Sparkled in his eyes, A light arcane,

He rows, His duty in penance.

Aboard the vessel, I held her tight,

We coalesced, An amorous entity,

Her velvet tresses, Black as the night,

Personified the lingering sanctity!

Straddles the Shikara with a drag,

Away from the luscious apple trees,

Aloft the mast, A tattered flag,

Flutters in vain to be set free!

Rumbles the ground beneath the lake,

And the land beyond the snowy peaks,

There a thousand innocent lives at stake,

And here of smitten guilt I reek.

Prods my side, Her dainty tease,

Clings on to me, My elusive key,

Leaves a chill the love-laden breeze,

And the tattered rag's set free!

Entwined our bodies, We breathed as one,

Rocked with the boat our tempestuous souls,

Merge as the horizon and the Sun,

Two lovers and the smudgy charcoal!

I know not when we drifted away,

Still in my head her twinkling eyes,

Transcends to real, Every lonely day,

And all my primal wants appease!