In Another Morning - II

And in another morning, the sun also rises,

Over Libya, where new hopes are born,

Over America, with which disappointment, is torn,

and Over Calcutta, where nothing ever changes,

Except the occasional government.

In Another Morning

In another morning, (there) was a proud sunlight.
That marched into our room, with delight.
And there were incomplete dreams,
Misty, ethereal, reeking of the previous night.
There was poetry, Oh, bless the poetry,
Lyrics of reassurance, of a future bright,
There were naked limbs, and sudden smiles,
Love in the creases on the forehead, quiet.

In another morning, there was a tender touch,
And almost ecstatic was the associated joy.
There were white sheets, pristine, that gave us
Shelter, and provoked us to completely destroy,
The notions of society that surrounded us.
The white sheets had a glow that did enjoy,
Parity with the aura of ecstasy in our hearts.
So, contented was I with you, oh (my) boy.

The tales of another morning(s),
Have perished since,
Our fairytale, like all others,
Did (tragically) die.
All I can do is
Dwell in refrains,
Haunted by memories,
Of your goodbye.