They won't come anymore looking for you.
They won't bring any gifts or the cheque book.
No matter how much the thought of it.
That with diligent effort one must try
to keep hope of doing things in life.
The monster of colonial thinking
The parasite, the speaking powerful...
All hope is not lost.
Even if there is destruction of the world
Some day. And you want to talk about it.
With age the body becomes heavy.
With time the mind becomes idle.
With conversation there is the open paper.
Newspaper in the newsstand looks Invigorating.
How small things look in recollection.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An insightful creation nicely crafted in persuasive expressions with conviction. Thanks for sharing, Subhadip.