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Some untold words,a lightyear distance can build.
Wrong sounds repeatedly shake the culvert,
and rob my speech,in halfway field.

I make one quiet,cries unwords beneath.
The mists would be lifted after along.
I console myself with the cause,
both the time & words were wrong.

Yet the analysis tricks in mind !
What I love is wrong so far.
Lying them on the bed in dark,
I come out, keep the door ajar.

As the parlour rooms that shine ;
bed chamber is always mine.

If mistake forecasts by chance,
utters aloofness in disguise.
In hidden fear with a sigh I roar -
" who the bastards they are ? "
my bosom is filled with familiar cries.

Translated By: Debajyoti Dasgupta
মূল কবিতাঃ ভুল শব্দেরা

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