One last time I drive past the pinewood
On the fogged road washed with rain
My eyes misted up in melancholic brood
If here I would ever come again.
The winds passing through pine chains
Bid me a whispered farewell
Sulk in silence the clouded mountains
In parting grief somber and pale.
In time afar on a forlorn night
If my dreams soar on wings
Bathed in milky moonlight
They would fly to Darjeeling.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC
One last time I drive past the pinewood
On the fogged road washed with rain
My eyes misted up in melancholic brood
If here I would ever come again.
The winds passing through pine chains
Bid me a whispered farewell
Sulk in silence the clouded mountains
In parting grief somber and pale.
In time afar on a forlorn night
If my dreams soar on wings
Bathed in milky moonlight
They would fly to Darjeeling.
My last ride out of Darjeeling, the queen of hills
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