Chopin

 

 

Chopin is something where always true love exists

Blooming within the truth and lie.

All the songs that I heard till now

All bound to fall timely or untimely.

But then only Chopin remain

Withstands against the all odds,

And ask, will you go back to Renaissance?

Intend to destine to Baroque?

Or tend to moor into his Romantic!

Where Louisiana always spreads her hand out

And drags me to the woods.

The scatter notes of jazz

Turns out into the outright trivia.

Chopin, I can’t play your Nocturnes anymore

Perhaps, it is too late

To moor up in your Island!

 

 

6th October, 2016

 

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