Bengali Poetry (Translated)
Now I am dead
The slightest glimpse of hidden restlessness— is profound sorrow. In her merest absence I become deeply restless, this truth—she came to know…
The slightest glimpse of hidden restlessness— is profound sorrow. In her merest absence I become deeply restless, this truth—she came to know…
Poetry that holds no scent of your body, poetry that binds you in my restlessness with such tangles of rules and restraint—…
Going against someone's wishes, stirring up the depths of the heart with restless longing— love cannot be won this way, only irritation…