Monday, February 12, 2018


(89)  Kichu phul cay hat barate

Some flowers, their hand would they reach,
Unto prewinter, ever holding.
Even now no trace of winter does appear...
Prewinter, they don't let it leave;
Not falling yet are the tree leaves.
Suspended in this atmosphere I do sing:
"Let me always get You near!"

As of yet winter's torpor, it has not arrived...
Breath still does not float 'fore the eyes,
And with colors orange groves are not bright...
Suspended in this atmosphere I ask of Thee:
"Incessantly why do You speak, 'I leave, leave, leave'?"

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