Friday 13 December 2019

O MY LOVE! THOU ART, IN SOOTH, MY BASSANIO.

O MY LOVE! THOU ART, IN SOOTH, MY BASSANIO.

O my Love! A serene thought of thine steals sweetly all the five senses of mine,
It, indeed, makes me more intoxicated than can do the German Rhenish wine!
In breakfast I savour joy; in lunch I relish celesty; and in supper ecstasy I do dine,
For, in thy blithest and most blissful company, it seems I sway in the cloud nine!

O my Love! Thou canst never be a fleeting Caprice in this Portia's pure imagination,
For, thou art to me none other than my most awaited Bassanio, the Venetian,
Who has ever been sending me from a great distance a thrilling, tickling sensation,
And whom I have, so long since, chosen to adorn my sincerest heart's Throne!

O my Love! Thou wert, indeed, my past; art my present; and wilt be my future forever,
No force, however tumultuous may be, can cause between us the slightest rupture,
Even the bitterest adversity of the coldest Siberian desert can my love for thee shiver,
For, Dost melt away my saddest mountains of ice, thy warmest hugs' eternal rapture!



Copyright: Shankar D Mishra  13.12.19

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