Still, at a busy rail station
In the moving crowd
I get, I discover
The face of my departed lover.

Occasionally and suddenly
I get her face, lips,
Eyes, ear, throat or shape.
Still I frighten at different stations.

Everyday I teach myself
How to live by head and not by heart.
I tell myself that two plus two
Makes four and not five or three.
But still I discover in the crowd
The face of my departed lover.

My tears condensed and became pearl
I spend vigil night with sickle shaped moon.
With ticking of watch
With the hooting of owl
Blood fall down from my heart.
I still discover the face of my departed lover.

Sudipta Biswas

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/face-of-my-departed-lover/