In the dead of the night
Deep some where in the wedge of my mind
I was scribbling a few bolts
They escaped the closed doors, blowing them apart,
And bid good bye, to the closed spaces, of my open mind.
Then your hand pasted a Rabindranath favourite
It started to play,
I turned into a poetry first,
Then a melody,
And wafted away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem