The day of Holi arrives.
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And still
As if you wanted to listenTo the dying echoesOf my leafless urgeSnaking through theValley of my just widowed heart.While the shape of dead tollsIn the blue eveningTill the last purple flameOf lust for life-Dies away, leavingHeaps of ashesOn the bald foreheadsOf the darkest hours-In the nuptial bedOf my crystal heart.
You were my teacher
When I started to explore.
This time
For I had got her back,My poem-Standing onA cross road of pagesYellow with desireThat surges in a momentWhen the last leaf had fallenAnd the late birdHad left,Bidding a farewellTo all thoseMid-summer night’s dreams.
କେମିତି ବୁଝେଇବି ଯେ
ନିଜ ହାତେ,ମୋ ହାତେ ଥାପିଲଏ ଜନ୍ମ ର ଶ୍ରେଷ୍ଠ ଉପହାର,ମୋ ପାଇଁ ତମ ମନରେଅଙ୍କୁରିତ ପ୍ରଣୟ ରଗୋଲାପୀ ସନ୍ତକ-ସମର୍ପିଲ ଚିଠି ରେ ତୁମର?
I am plump, buxom
Relatively happyTo shoulder the loadOf only a single head,And carry the dustand dirt oilyall through the weeks.Unlike the bitches andthe girls in the beaches-changing a holding handevery alternative night,and the ones in the capitalwho change their partyevery next termfrom Left to Right.I work for thesame head,Same smell, good or bad,Same name,same fameNever my luck to…
ତୋତେ ଚାହିଁ ଚାହିଁ
ଶୁଖିଯାଏ କା ଆଖି ରସବୁଯାକ ପାଣି..।ତୋତେ ପାଇ ପାଇଚେରାପୁଞ୍ଜିଉବୁ ଟୁବୁ ହୁଏକେତେ ଓଠ-ହସ ଲିଭିଯାଏଚଚ୍ଚଗ୍ରାମ ସୀମାନ୍ତ ରେ,ବଙ୍ଗଳା ଭୂଇଁ ରେ ।।ତୋ ଆସିବା,କାହା ହାତେ-ଗୁଞ୍ଜିଦିଏ ପ୍ରଣୟ ଚିଟାଉ,ସୁଦୂରିକା ପ୍ରିୟା ର ବିରହୀ-କୋହ ମୋହ କଣ୍ଠାଶ୍ଳେଷ ପାଇଁରାମ ଗିରି-ଯକ୍ଷ ଆବେଗ ରେପକ୍ଷ ଲାଗିଯାଏ ।।