I left you
That is to say, I did not leave your world and grow up like a hawk hanging on the loft of a house.
I came up with everything.
There are no clogs under the feet, there are no poles, there are no broken memories of the whole decade full of naughtiness, there are no songs.
Leaving me does not mean leaving anything by mistake.
Leaving means I have left all the evenings that you have put in your smooth hands in the afternoon.
I have left the world of neat books.
There is nothing in hand
Whatever was handful, I left you means I don't have a finger.
The palms of the hands, no lines, no writing.
I know we will never get together on a train
Leaving you means we don't have a 'sudden visit'.
The station is divided.
The tongs of the road belong to each other
The cup of tea is also different. Or the cloth of the rack, the twigs of the mango tree tied to the cradle, the pickle given to dry on the roof
That's all I left.
There is no future with time, the past is yesterday.
Our scents left each other, before we left the bed.
I have left you, which means there is no unseen lip on my chest
A bench is empty in the chat rooms when face to face
Or a pair of lips.
I have left silence
Sexuality
Risk of decay
Anger, trembling, thin, dry, pale fingers, two eyebrows, a sesame, or just a fraction of the perfect pain.
Our laughter festival will not be held together or any revolutionary last supper.
Hundreds more conversations will be in the middle, though
The trembling procession
I will wake up every temple, mosque, church, sleeping God
Jump to be the top of every fountain
I will drive every unbridled horse
I will crush all the sick political dictators.
We have no impending memory of a possible revolution together.
Yet one day all will be ours, this city, society, state
Every prayer house, every pond, every tree, the burnt hands of the workers, a thousand and one nights of the Arabian Nights will be all ours.
Only we will never be each other again.
There is nothing to hold back after leaving
No diurnal motion, region, page, forehead, salt water, nor annual motion.
The yarn has to be coated hard before it becomes soft and torn
Since not given,
I didn't even learn to add falsehoods after being torn apart.
Leaving you means I have wrapped that thread
The west turns red and in fact every child wraps the latai
Dragon kite pure.
I have no kite in my thread, no sky, no west, no red
You are not even in the torn part of that thread, there is no kiss or even a nicotine of long waking night.
The hope of being paired also leaves after leaving.
After unraveling each other's yarn
Yes, yes, yes.
Since there is no peace of mind here.
Leaving you means we don't have any more stories to fly together.
No such river will flow continuously
Maybe I will run away, to a different sea
Our different arrows, our different boats, each turn, our exuberant teenagers drowning in the water.
The sun is like the breast of an untouchable young woman who descends in the afternoon bath
Like the one who is getting lost, more will go, Rose will go, let's go.
I'm sorry to have left you.
The flow of that water is terrible
On the other hand, arithmetic can be done by swimming
After many years of happy young woman making tea in the kitchen with a spoonful of sugar can be a vague memory of the past.
The last page of the book that shook the literary world,
Helal Hafeez's finger
Sunil's head
Popular anecdotes
Behula Lakhinder
It is possible to go down to the pond at night at noon
A faithful tree kneeling on the bank
Probable procession that was extinguished by Rudra's hut
The reader's sad eyes
I didn't want to be,
None of this I wanted to be.
Leaving you means I am not on the pages of any book of Saratbabu's timeless book.
I took a leave of absence.
No waiting
Your private attic
The loneliness of Anna Frank, the whimsy, the tears for the sparrows, the sad pillows, I am nowhere to be found.
Leaving you means you're gone,
It doesn't stick, it doesn't stick, it doesn't cover, it doesn't stick.
There is not a drop of water left on the bottom of the glass
Not a hair is stuck in the teeth of the comb
Ekratti sadness is not suppressed in the collar of memory
Not a single rice fell on the leaves
No splashes
Not in Vita
You have risen in comfort from the silver coating.
Now my reflection in my mirror is just yours in your mirror.
We will still weep for a hundred times, maybe in different pains,
I will laugh out loud with different joy
I will sing anxiously in different music
In different different poses
Whose premises are divided.
Understand the real meaning of leaving you now.
If you get it, know the grief is temporary,
Because there will be no 'we' in any personal story of our next seven births.
.