After a year and a half you finally raised your eyes

By Sunil Gangopadhyay

After a year and a half you finally raised your eyes
How did you make me so bereft of desire, Nira
A rectangular table between footprints of transient light
How did you make me so bereft of desire, Nira
I smell incense in the illusion of your face, like pictures on a Persian carpet
Laughter interrupted on a casual evening, mutually separated by two yards,
How did you make me so bereft of desire, Nira?

Doors closed and windows open, or is it the other way round
People pass, ‘When did you return from your trip abroad, Sunil?’
Your eyebrows meet at my answer, amorous in tiny spectacles,
Or perhaps pictures don’t favour all kinds of glass
Secretly I take back the small gift I brought you
How did you make me so bereft of desire, Nira
Just for those eyes, did I run all this way just for a glimpse
of those eyes?

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