Moon-song in winter

Tonight, as the dew falls softly
On sleeping Chrysanthemum blooms
And the frost frozen buds of rose,
Some people are remembering
Old loves that still shine brighter
Than the silver moon at their window.

Only a philosopher who is lost
In the meandering streets outside
Walks the leaf-strewn windy lanes
Debating with his hesitant self
If she was ever real, a memory,
Or something imagined in his dreams.

Tonight, as the dew falls softly
On sleeping Chrysanthemum blooms
Something more than the rose buds freeze,
In deserted wind-swept winter lanes
Remembering the beautiful things
Bitter-sweet, perhaps only imagined.

Diptesh Ghosh