Re-Version Of Ulysses Poem by Trailakya Roy

It little profits that a jobless lover,
By his still determination,
Among those competitors living a depressed life.
I eat and sleep, no hope unto a Waste Bengal: that lectures and sleeps, and know not me.

I cannot rest from love:
I will drink love to the lees, all time
I have enjoyed greatly,
I am become a lover.
Much I have seen and known,
But I am become a part of fate,
And a job seems an arch
Whose margin fades,
Forever and forever when I move,
Now efforts piled on efforts
Are all too little, and to me little remains,
For some three years she gave to decide,
Now to love her is like a sinking star,
Beyond my capacity and thought.

There she lies, dressed like a bride,
But I am frustrated, lost all honour,
Yet whenever 'P' speaks,
The lights begin to twinkle in hope-
The long desire to put on a garland,
Round with many voices.

Come my friends, it's never too late
To get a job, let's come and fry CHOP,
It may be that we will become Ambani,
It may be that we will build five storied building,
And make honeymoon with whom we loved in Burj Khalifa.

Though much is gone,
We are not now that strength, which
In old days rocked a college stage,
Now we are one equal sufferer of dreamy hearts,
But strong in will,
To qualify, to get, to live and not to leave.