A fist of golden dust
Emits the sparkling light
Within the self,
May I step forward for
A decaying future or not?
I know – there is nothing
To be decay – as all
The memoirs always
Touches the waves of
Life being
With a humble sight,
We work – fly from the
Fire to the wings,
I wake up from generations
To the offspring,
Yellowing to the full of prana,
What always we expect from
Senescence to the sense of eternity.
***
-sanjibsaha Aniketa
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem