ছিঁড়ে ফেলা কাগজ

Draw me a tear, artist.
Take the brushes, don't refuse me!

Light—like a drop of dew.
Severe—like a drop of hatred.
Wavy—like causeless anger.
Meek—like a silent caress.
Profound—as a tacit sin.
Proud—like unreasonable love.
Clear—like quiet skies.
Gloomy—like a whirlwind raging.

Draw me a tear, artist!
Draw me a real tear!
Throw the palette aside.
Take the colours from my soul!
Dig deep with the brushes,
do not leave it concealed and covered.

And if a tear is shed—
and comes out a call even from
souls frozen, a moan of pain or love,
I will know that you drew me.