The bewitched-night

I decided to get down at the last junction
However, didn't come down, so could not finish
The endless journey.

The bend of the sable-line is turning me                            In the wrong direction;
I have crossed gradually the Hijal, Tamal,
And the touchy call of the southern river.

It peeps today at the busy-ledger
A shadow-colour, very flirty and idiotic
While the weirdest surrounding is playing
                           The whistle of indecision!
In the meanwhile, sources dissolve in twilight
                            In great disguise.

All sales on the route are over now
The magical tune of the wind-driven leaves stops
The sky goes to sleep in fatigue,
But, there never stops the one-way running;
There never stops the talk of the bewitched-night.

The poet is an essayist, book reviewer & literary critic