Our arms shall not embrace us any longer
lips shall not be exciting to touch our lips.
Walking alone, you are, don’t know
going to which direction; I also don’t know
the sun is rising from which direction.
Standing alone, bare, wretched, split up, a tired beggar;
like a broken plate begging—suffering from incurable fever;
if anyone throw a dead coin for that walking from path to path;
abruptly seeing a dropp of pearl is trembling in my fist.
Note: the original of this poem in Bengali by poet Humayun Azad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem