Title
Title
By
Dipankar Chakraborty
Like the sparks of the crystal
water droplet
Which ignite the mighty world
from the chest of the small
leaflets,
The diamond eyes of the mere
child aim the arrow of love,
To tied us in the knot of
sovereignty being bestowed in
love.
That mere child don’t know the
darkness of this earth,
Its tranquil cry makes them to
talk mirth.
But the parents of the spouse
seal a mark on its head,
The title, which isolates one
from other, they accept it with
glad.
The title makes one royal and
makes other minority,
Gives one a life of silver spoon
and gives other inferiority.
Only this separate one from
other and bring forth distinction,
This only brings riot or the
matter of perception.
What is this which bounds
people to forget their humanity?
What is this for which mass
killing don’t caste any
impression in their mentality.
This also makes the mere child
to think like rival,
It will also praise the theory of
blood for blood, which is trivial.
Thus it is the original face of
this era,
Murder, in place of hand to
hand, is the power of the era,
The call of hold my hand when
turns in to blood hunger hooting,
When the spring music turns in
to blast or shooting.
Hai the small king, you are the
gift of our civilization,
Don’t follow the path of our
ancestor, please realize your
humiliation,
The path of rusticity is the boon
of that mighty soul,
Please make it soul spirit, than
you can achieve treasury in the
sac of coal.
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