When I had mother, I could not the value of her,
Now feel I very sad sometimes.
Tears well up into the eyes and I remember her
With the wet eyes,
With a pain in the heart.
When she had been, I could not spare time for doing this or that
But now think I,
I should have this or that
When she is not.
A red rose or a girl in flesh and blood?
That instaed of trying to avert the gaze,I could not,I saw her, but took the pains too,is this called love?
Ektu gour kore taakan,Aami ek sadharan lok.Saheb to cchilaam na,Woraa saheb kore-koreAamake thiksahebBniye diyecche.Am not an officer,You presume it to be,Look into closely,Am a common man.Had not been an officer,They after calling me sahebHave exactly meMade.
You are time and tense,Time, period of it and its duration,Never ending, ever continuing,My kaal, your kaal, his kaal,His time, your time, my time,Time and its periodAnd the passage of itAnd sometimes kaal is but the last time,The bite of doom and destructionAppearing serpentine.Kaal, time, duration, period, basically sense of tense,Samay plainly time,Kaal’s samay, tense’s…
As long as life is there,This green earth is.Poetry will not cease it,Will continue to be writtenTill man is on this green earthOf bio-diversity.Man will come and go,Poetry too will be written soAfter this or that poet takes toFor a dabbling in verse.
Not the candidatesThat they have wonAs it breaks away from the nomenclatureOf American conventionAs the aspirants may claim overBut should not be so passionate about irrationally.
