I have tasted the lips of Hippocrene.
I have tasted the wild hemlock.
But nothing is as sweet as the lips of yours,my love.
On those lips of yours I melt like the butter,
sizzle, splutter when seasoned with your breath,
the fragrance, the flavour I carry with me wherever I go
and spread in the air like wind carries the sweet message of God.
And when people see me, they tell each other
"Look here comes the messenger of love.
Let us all soak in her warmth"
Such is your love, my love, where I soak, I rain.

Prasupta Roy