The Earth Wakes Up From Uncanny Sleep And Finds Her Feelings Has Fallen In The Pristine Hole Poem by Soumen Chattopadhyay

One by one, the faces of my family become clear. Moving in an enchanting
circle, the life stands at the twilight of the horizon. The hope and desire,
the memory and oblivion of the century surround me at the infallible
hour. Outside the limitation, the darkness was full of incomprehensible
emptiness— nevertheless its indifference fascinated me. The paths and
fields of the earth end— the source also departs. In search of luster in the
dark, I, a shepherd boy, had learnt the ancient letters of the world. The
Sky in the river— the darkness of the jungle, the warmth of the underworld
—all I had in me— like this and that side of horizon. At those far-off
evenings, many times the nature had made me speechless. That day, the
cognition of the existence and non-existence, the emptiness was there
at the endless field— it was not just emptiness, the detached fireball
turning into ashes, midway.

Leaving the harsh failure behind, the shalikh, the sparrow, the wind of
Chaitra, the depressed and long noon of my living, all are bound in me
in dense harmony, although one day, in the darkness of the unsocial
womb, my molecular life has got all the taste and form of the universe.
Thereafter many times waking up from uncanny sleep, the earth has felt
itself in the pristine hole. The dead and the death are no more included
in the prayer, surrendering myself at the feet of the source, I stand at the
twilight of the horizon from the far-off infinity, kneeling, I bow down to
me inside myself...