I oft remember you, my lord
Forgetting the centuries between us
I oft touch your unseen feet
Ignoring those walls, of the seven oceans.
As I saw you blessing in dreams upon me
As you, my lord, are the source of my poetic fancy
As you, the friend, philosopher and guide mine indeed.
Ye, a little touch may make me full of fancy
But oh, the centuries are moving on their eternal wheels
Have kept you from me afar
Offering me that heart
That can abide by your pens, worship your rhymes.
O the great king of the world of drama
Pour in my unknown pens strength
Let them write what you whisper in my ears,
Give the touch of your hands to my poems
Let them be as colourful as the flowers are.
My lord,
How did you feel human hearts?
How did you realize what human minds search for?
How did you understand how they were to have drawn?
A little touch, may I get?
May I occupy a narrow space in your heart?
O you, the pitiful soul
I know, what you have blessed me.
What you murmur daily in my ears.
Let me write them down,
Let me salute-
To you.
Pijush Biswas
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-william-shakespeare/
