Nowadays
I'm in the shattered sighs
An insipid ink in the poetic realm
Unable to express in words to words
All green leaves lost in the abysmal thought
No south breeze vibrates the finger's pen
Page of every moment passes everything idly
Springtime of July in Bangla has come and go
No change didn't come to wake the languorous veins
Nothing is in my liking phase anymore really
Because exploring the mental health of politics in poetry.
©18th August,2024
Chittagong
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem