Sit here, beside me. On this downy bank
The heather grows soft, star-sprinkled
With purple. Our Persian carpet.
Look close and you will see the ring
Where the fairies used to dance..
But that was long ago.
We will dip our bare feet in the cold,
Shimmering light, and try
To catch the sparkles. The silence will
Ripple; and the glimmering silver,
In slow, sleepy circles,
Casting the world in a trance.
Look how your soul has fallen, dark
Upon the heather. Merging
With mine..
The sunshine on your lips
Will taste of milk, tinged bitter
With buttercups and fresh green grass.
The willows are weeping, drooping
With sadness;
Quietly the river sighs,
Sorrowful and sweet.
Let me lay my head on your shoulder,
Drowsy-eyed, and listen to
The gurgling water, lapping
Up the lazy hours. Drink in
This rapture, your soul
Is sobbing out for peace.
Dearest, your eyes
Are liquid, like the night,
Flecked with colour, like crystals
Of water;
Dreamy and strange,
Overbrimming with sunshine..
Like my soul.    
Pawan Madri Kalugala
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