Hawa gumsum, photo na kusum

Who are you, wild, so obsessed, out in this cruel darkness এ

These times, the big ones are not good, the clouds are also thumping, look beyond the barrier.

Hawa gumsum, bahari kusum, bhule sfutan, now go back to the womb

Mayartha breaks, this illusory autumn, not useful, next monsoon too.

Flowers too, not poems, lie today, next to corpses

Poetry, too, loves death more than birth.

Advertising

The wind blows, the leaves of the tree, tremble, in turmoil:

Under the pressure of the waves, in the estuary, alone in the distance, the lean river?

Are you Shefali, Panthapadap or not? The nature of the photo that you have caught:

Balai forgot, like autumn rain, endless dripping tuptapa?

May be wrong, hearing impaired, symphony near a forest,

I know you, a flock of vultures, flying fearlessly, a queen bee.