Sunday Evening Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

Life is continuously being built,
or unbuilt,
whatever way you may see it.

I am sitting alone,
the fan is rotating,
creating a sound
that I never heard before
with such a concentration.
The towel is flying,
I didn't see it fly like this.

At the moment, I am cut off from outside,
I see mundane things
they make an impression for some time,
and they leave for ever.

The fan, the towel make my life now.
A few moments after -
when my loneliness will be taken away,
my life will go another direction
that I do not know.
Every little thing -
leaves a new idea
imprints it on my mind,
and then gets lost.

Lost,
lost for ever.

Your smile,
the way you look at me now,
the way I look at you, -
all these are once-in-a-lifetime experience,
I get and I lose.

Nothing is held for long.
Thus is life,
being built
unbuilt.....