Moinak Dutta |
I have perhaps trodden many miles
Watching how beyond hills the Sun does rise
Every day with a splendour bright and generous
Making the world filled with colors, wonderous,
And then the day when comes to the close
I when come home, after the day's din and chaos,
I look at that glow as held in the lamp of the lady
Who stood there quiet, like an ethereal beauty,
I think of then how she stood there for hours
For her father who drew that portrait of hers,
The glow of hope for her father, who did toil,
Seventy years ago, on this very land's soil,
The country had perhaps then like a new born
Was waiting with smiles to catch the hues of morn
And there the father painted the portrait
Of his daughter standing with the lamp, straight.
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