We’ll be present here before ice melts;
when evening has turned into brimming darkness,
with the simplicity of birds, we have to go on flying
till full night.
Here at this tavern, everyone keeps sitting face to face
lighting darkness- an aesthetic picture like the nonstop lengthy rainfall.
In course of our coming, we forget our route,
and then losing it again and again,
we appear in front of it.
On the other hand, just under the Ursa Major,
all the distant worships and time
behind the sign-shadows nowadays
ooze like blood.
Getting up from bed, I find blood in my eyes;
going to brush my teeth, I find blood inside my mouth;
at night going to take part in intercourse, I find blood
oozing out of my penis in straight sprays.
Again, while playing the harmonium, I find the rids
We have united in intercourses in black and white,
have seen the streaks of our bodies bending away;
have tried to led this blind life ahead with the white canes.
These are the besotted movements- feelings of shivering yellow warmth.
I gave them the vibrations of the advanced waves, the psychotic Chimbuk hill.
Having the sun set, in the inland of Moheshkhali
darkness plays with fatal water.
I have lost the keys of the days that turn into a box
that fascinate my love to take unbearable risks.
At first I could not make out; perhaps, this besotted plight
originates from the shells of dreams, this blind approach ahead.
Going to village, I found- all birds had turned into leaves,
and leaves into birds. I go on pondering- alas! In the roots of life,
in the midst of these glaciers and blizzards,
we reach darkness- in darkness alone,
all alone tonight to change the mask of life…