Bengali Poetry (Translated)
God's Wound
A fraud you are, base and low; mad, without lustre, ash! So I turn from you, carve my marks across your heart…
A fraud you are, base and low; mad, without lustre, ash! So I turn from you, carve my marks across your heart…
My curse, never to touch the feeling of your final moment, and yet you traced a kiss upon my eyes— is this…
We get back only what we give, only the measure of what we do. Even knowing, even understanding it all, we still…