‘O beloved, does my voice tremble your heart? I curse this fate that has kept us apart.’ He croons, His legs numb, As their eyes grow moist, And the room a blur. ‘Ah!’ the pundit moans an invisible lover The rajah sinks into the silk cushion, The empty cups lie still, The curtains ruffle no more.
Nimbly the singer rises, His fingers still sore, ‘You are late!’ the queen says with a trembling heart, He holds her silky waist, ‘Dear Queen, tis’ thy husband who keeps us apart.’ ©Nishi Jain 2012
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