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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The night sinks into a sleepy spell, like a wanderer lost in the intoxication of opium. Woven from restless threads of fire, a landscape of artificial memories rises. With shattered faith, I search again for tender, illusory lips, Yet every touch becomes a cactus thorn breaking through desert stone, and on my parched chest a scorching blaze roars on. With sky-sized thoughts, I once held the world within my palm, the same hand that carries the ache of gentle sorrow, the same hand that keeps the tireless memory of touching you, My lifelong devotion to love. O weary life, indifferent whim, Do not let me fade away. There is still something left of all I’ve sacrificed. Grant me, at last, a taste of fulfilment. In shrinking and changing, I lost myself and became a vein beneath the skin. A miraculous maze swirls around me in a world steeped in prejudice. I am absorbed in uprooting the hidden senses of a sky full of stars. My own thoughts grow greedy for me, a wavering silence in the hollows of the heart… A night drunk on desire, moonlight glistening like rhythm in my pulse. My bashful, beloved body twists itself around my two legs. Through the stillness breaks a pungent, burned scent, slipping into every crease of my panting breath. At the festival dusk descends a subtle, saddened longing, and the harbour of my heart flutters with restlessness. The moss-covered, lively grasshoppers of emptiness are exiled today, withdrawn. Youth, drunk on the wine of night, casts off its homely burdens and reveals time’s three faces. With its beak lifted, it crosses the rambling city of confusion, and even streaming rains cannot wash shame away. The inevitable self moves through all of it, like a ripened body in Chaitra’s harvest fields. The intoxicated night devours me whole. From life’s canvas, luxurious dreams tumble down in heaps. The marketplace of the world moves on by its own laws of immortality, and the opium-drenched night keeps me spinning in eager dreamlust, in the naked deceit of bewildered memory. Note: Chaitra- the dry season month in the Bengali calendar.
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