(ebar ujar kore low-he amar ja-kichu sombol)
This time take all my belongings
Look back look back look back, oh my restless
In Chaitra-night, be it game lasting one Prohor
My dream-figure spread outer-dress on my life
If that’s what you had in mind
If trying to erase best-day-recall in deep neglect
Then why not briefly stand in our broken game
There spread casually amid dust the torn flower
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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