Pradip Chattopadhyay (28.01.1961 / Kolkata)
A Dirge For Transience
On a dead dull night
When the moon goes hiding
And the barn owl hoots for its love
The fireflies romance the darkness.
The glowing beads dance to celebrate
The nights of long past buried for good
With the treasures of lost happiness,
Wind sings a dirge for transience.
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