Two scholars discuss life in a gray library.
They dissect beauty into precise compartments,
They speak softly of fleetingness of time.

Outside a breeze is blowing through green paddy fields.
A clump of wild flowers have blossomed early.
A goatherd lies in the grass with nothing to do.

Time is passing fast in the dusty libraries.
But in green fields Time lingers, half in love with spring.

Diptesh Ghosh