কবিতা

The Common Man

Shivashish Sarkar

I see how the common man weeps,
Quietly at the end of the day.
How missing of one jewel
Costs his happiness too much,
Neither does he bid adieu
To the long-longing for his mistress.

I shall not hate a man,
For all have a verse to sing,
In praise of her majesty.
Raising the levels of madness,
Like a red-fountain does
Shoot up with profound jolliness.

Shall I call it jolly
And commit a folly?
Child that complains the possession
Of another over his toy,
Little knows he will grow to find,
His mistress a play-thing to another man.

I shall laugh at the misery
Of Lord he shows quite often,
He shows the spring
With cupids hit everywhere
But then comes sad October
With cries of 'forget-her'.

Is there any man of my liking,
Not guilt-stricken in love
But grief-stricken in love?
Can it be put in this fashion
That with utmost passion
He tributes his life to her?

One who played the common man
And held love at high esteem,
Did outburst with best gleam
A cry so selfless and lean
For ill-fortune of his mistress
Of not being better-served by him.

Doesn't the common man think
How amusing every moment
Would he make for her
My pleasuring her with gestures
Most chaste in the world
Even Adam had not learned.

The worst part of it he tells,
Is that best lies in this fact
Marry your love or be ransacked
For the mid-twenties who bears
Your genetic-extension,
Isn't your loved one.

Instance it with otherwise,
Offer home to the sweetheart,
You loved and lived for
And owed to die her slave
Isn't it the heavenly norm
That your child calls her 'mom'?