- Books, Literature, and Writing
Like the wind, thou have passed from here,
Where are the glorious times, which were there?
Gone, have thou gone, leaving everyone in pain,
Come back, come back, thy voice once more thee strain.
The trees in the country have started withering,
The birds, the babies, have quit singing.
Flowers, in spring, cry without thee,
Come back, come back, alone here are we.
Here, ere, the wind which blew,
Filled our sights with a pleasant view.
Now, the wind is same as before,
But difference is - it makes us bored,
Come back, come back, live thy life like before.
Springs have passed, springs have come,
Despairs are plenty, hopes are some.
Silence, silence everywhere can be heard,
Thou art absent, thy absence cannot be beard,
Come back, come back, our eyes are fully teared.
When thou laughed, flowers bloomed,
When thou sighed, the world gloomed.
Thy bells of joy, which jingled, are now dumb,
The songs of canaries, are mute as lump,
Come back, come back, life without thee is sunk.
Crying and weeping art everyone for thou,
This injustice you could do, but how?
Spring is here, thy flowers are to bloom,
Ring thy bells, see how we all gloom,
Come back, come back,
Come back, come back, in which world do you roam?
© 2016 Ankit Mittal