Treasure Island

Tapas Baidya

The Train

I work hard from sun to moon
In spite of that my fate finds nothing
I am like a local train
Nobody looks behind after arriving at their stoppages

My sisters seem as long platforms
If we can not make them reach at the scheduled stations in time
Society will blame I feel no fear no faith

My father also an old-train of Bangaon line
He carries he staggers and breathes fast
There is no time to pause
He passes the stations one after another
And blows horn frequently
The western wind converts the horn
Into stinging pain that pierces me
I can not shout I can not cry

Overcoming stormy hazards many ups and downs
My beloved friend the dark night comes to me with starry sky
All the stars are tearful yet I can not lament

Sun arises
Apu and Durga come to see the young-train
In the mean time the old-train has gone far away...

Submitted: Friday, July 25, 2008
Edited: Thursday, August 07, 2008

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Comments about this poem (The Train by Tapas Baidya )

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  • Raj Nandy (8/22/2008 6:50:00 AM)

    Tapas, your novel use of the imagery to covey the problems of life is well appreciated!
    -Raj Nandy (Report) Reply

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