সৌরভ ভট্টাচার্য
22 July 2016
Some unknown faces
Chirp an unsung tune
On my withered window sill,
Every morn....
Sometimes, a little squirrel squeaks,
Or a soothing breeze wakes me up by a ravenous call,
Every morn....
Their song beckons my soul, an untouched chord
Of my silent self...
My stranger heart replies,
To a stranger friend of mine..
Every morn...
My mundane existance,
Melts away in the twilight haze,
As I watch my estranged soul
Leave me...
With an angel glee,
Every morn..
[Translated By: Sukanya Bandyopadhyay ]
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