When you spoke of wisdom
I think I'm a fool,
So I don't like you
Do you understand, Pandit?
After much wastage
The days that are in the pocket
Those are the content.
Pebbles or stones that I got, I picked it up on my own;
I have formed no island in my heart from your knowledge!
So don't talk about wisdom
Don't talk about sufferings, O Pandit.
I would rather walk that way
That path, that has led to my own foolishness.
Me, who's on the ground, is also me 100 feet below the ground
How will you change me?
I will come out of my ignorance, not from your knowledge —
to become the head of fools!
I will continue to hang like a spider in my net.
- Translated from Bangla into English by Shromona Hossain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem