In shape of the heart you could make the wonderful cake
Instead of white flour take stampede dust,
Mix with hot tears and preservatives collect from sighs,
No blood in the veins to colour the cake
Rich mosquitos sucked all the nutrition
And the skeleton's decaying as no friendly calcium support,
Blurred vision because the eyes sunk into sockets
due to undernourishment?
Poor Guy attempts to walk straight as a Man
with all these hardships and he cannot rest for a while
As a mysterious hand pushes him from behind?
to my Bengali poet friend Pranab K. Chakraborty!
nimal p.dunuhinga
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem