Friday, June 24, 2011

The Kiss by Rabindranath Tagore

Lips' language to lips' ears. 
Two drinking each other's heart, it seems. 
Two roving loves who have left home, 
pilgrims to the confluence of lips. 
Two waves rise by the law of love 
to break and die on two sets of lips. 
Two wild desires craving each other 
meet at last at the body's limits. 
Love's writing a song in dainty letters, 
layers of kiss-calligraphy on lips. 
Plucking flowers from two sets of lips 
perhaps to thread them into a chain later. 
This sweet union of lips 
is the red marriage-bed of a pair of smiles.

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