Abdul Mannan Syed
On the streets, I sometimes see Jibanananda Das:
A sturdy figure with slightly dirty panjabi and dhoti hanging upon his knee
And a pair of obscure sandal embracing his feet
Steps slowly along the footpath with a relaxed gait.
And inside his two eyes
The green prism that I’ve lost in my childhood
Broken apart burn bright.
One day I saw him in the end of the green road,