The snow has fallen on her grave,
Lamenting the death of her child,
The love of nature, couldn’t save
The meek, the mild or the wild.

I’m not the only one, beside her stone,
Adorned by the withering daffodils.
The earth is creeping through her bones,
All her secrets are now sealed.

You are the one, who kissed her cheeks.
It was not love but only desire,
Now in the grave, her memory reeks
The gory love, led her to her bier.

Every night you devoured her soul,
You loved her, but hated her pride;
Drinking from the golden bowl,
Intoxicated her, with your lies.

She died of slumber, this world knows;
But it is only you, who knows the truth.
And when the truth will poison you slow,
From her grave, will emerge the undying Ruth.

Lament the death of this benign soul,
Repent the sin, you kept aside;
Sing a requiem, let the church bell toll;
As you loved her, so she died.

                                                                                  ~ Debashish Sarkar

                                                                                 Kolkata, India