Gardening the Bhutanese Way

Thursday, December 3, 2015

My Nightingale



Oh my Nightingale!
You perched on the string of my heart,
With a sudden jerk, without notice,
Without permit, without warning.
The shove with which you alighted,
Set my heart into ensuing pulsation,
A sensory vibration of bliss.
I have had  myself attuned,
To the appeasing tone of bliss,
Unconditionally & whole-heartedly.

Oh my Nightingale!
You intoned your sweet melody,
The sweetness sank deep,
Into each fissure my heart  have beholden,
To each vein my heart  bifurcated into,
The echoing resonance,
The eternal accomplice of my auditory canal,
Had me spellbound,
My limbs responded with promptness,
Caroling in line with the tunic melody.

Oh my Nightingale!
You swept across your gentle moves,
I  scanned the rotary movement of your eyes,
The nonchalant swinging of your tail,
The flapping of your flamboyant wings,
The tender tapping of your claws,
The shrill clattering of your beak,
Witnessing the rhythmic movements of yours,
Has been the epitome of my joy,
Upon which I glue my unflinching gaze.

Oh my Nightingale!
Never have I been flooded with emotions,
Drained of my inner zest,
Drenched with secretion from my tear glands,
Rooted with no jovial movements of life,
Frozen with no vitality within,
As you did flop to a far-flung place;
Yet the tinge of hope,
Nurtured by your instant homecoming,
Is the only radiance over the path of my existence.