The dawn is effervescent
The morning fog is in self-love
The pomp of the pristine white is all around
The sun finds a little break
From monotony
Never felt the urge of being with the ‘me’
Even amidst the sights and sounds
Now, feeling it – strongly
The soil calls out to the horizon
The sky obliges, all in obligation, perhaps?
The Heaven and Earth unite to make the dawn
More pleasant, pleasant yet static
The morning markets pose a threat
To farmlands, calm and coy and unresisting
Every day, each day
Can the grass still sing?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Translated from the original in Bengali by Tapas Ray