To Suvarna

Utpal Chattopadhyay

Good bye Suvarna,

the river golden.

If we are to never meet again,

if it is destined that

I do not get to dip my toes to feel

your flowing pulse once more;

Or if, on the other hand,

you wither away and I find

you tired and shriveled when I return;

both you and I would know that

we caused a tiny ripple to form, 

washed away like a feather that fell

from the wings of a bird.

and that

we promised we would remember;

knowing well,

that we may not.