Poetry
The man
The long night of winter
Freezing cold and dark
The woman standing at the crossway
of Shere Bangla Nagar
A supernatural existence
in misty moonlight !
The car stops
While returning home
The brave journalist enquires :
'Are you looking for a friend
for the evening?
Let's go, it's very cold outside !' With deep solitude in her eyes
She beholds
Comes nearer the firm sadness
Swinging her saree in the wind :
'The man liked to play with fire
But before realisation of his dream
He went missing
Not known when
Scattering some leaflets here and there
But while leaving he couldn't say :
'See you again !'
Before the sunrise
I came to shower some flowers
here on the road-
Once engraved by his footprints !' Holding darkness in her heart she left
'Nonsense !' exclaimed the journalist
And got into the car
throwing the butt in the air.
Freezing cold and dark
The woman standing at the crossway
of Shere Bangla Nagar
A supernatural existence
in misty moonlight !
The car stops
While returning home
The brave journalist enquires :
'Are you looking for a friend
for the evening?
Let's go, it's very cold outside !' With deep solitude in her eyes
She beholds
Comes nearer the firm sadness
Swinging her saree in the wind :
'The man liked to play with fire
But before realisation of his dream
He went missing
Not known when
Scattering some leaflets here and there
But while leaving he couldn't say :
'See you again !'
Before the sunrise
I came to shower some flowers
here on the road-
Once engraved by his footprints !' Holding darkness in her heart she left
'Nonsense !' exclaimed the journalist
And got into the car
throwing the butt in the air.
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel.
Comments