I could have sought out forest and hill and lost myself there, I could have vanished beneath the bakul tree or astride a mythic horse. Yet I didn't go—I never left you behind and went anywhere.
I was caught in waiting, I was consumed by weariness. I had forgotten how to weave poems, forgotten to warm my body in gentle sunlight. I had forgotten so many things, loving you.
I could have dissolved away, I could have shattered, I could have withered, I could have bent and broken if I'd wished. But I stayed alive because you would return.
You didn't return, you didn't understand, you didn't think, you didn't weep.
Am I still someone to you? Someone for whom you might bring two handfuls of love, green as taro leaves? You could give me cars, houses—I know this. You cannot give love, nor can you receive it. You can offer money, but you can never pay the price of waiting.
অসাধারণ কবিতা। কবিতা গুলো পড়ে শুধু মনে হয়েছে ঠিক কাকে যেন একটা উদ্দেশ্য করে লেখা!!