Thursday, December 16, 2010

the story of Tear

Falls uselessly. And crossing the hillocks of eyes
it ever downpour unnecessarily

Either she has passed over my penury
I cannot say. Or she has gone to discover
perhaps those devices of adultery
for whom I ever objected
Nevertheless I use to explain ever
it is the destiny that ruined me
but it does not forget to flow in vain
down to hillside of the cheeks

Aching I is parallel to aching others
Shot I is also exactly as shot others.
An evening of Chaturey Zetha with empty pot and some desolation
helplessness of his son Yamkumar
who never got an opportunity to go to school
I ever manifest that this is the trend of this world
but passing the edges of eyes
it always descends downward.
I don’t know why a collegiate act as stranger
to his father who is cleaning drain at some deserted corner
why the young students shut them in the hotel rooms
when they cannot meet their mere necessities
and these things are beyond my perception.
I can’t explain why the crazed running tyres of vehicles splash mud
on the shabby attire of some unemployed on the flanks
but anyway this liquid always pours to downward
ceaselessly crossing the edge of eye.

Heightening the mountains of dream
and grinding in the time-machine in every moment
also separating into granules of bran
to die a meaningless death by many Asarmaya
On the other hand a hopeless effort to forget
the absurdity and madness of unsolved situations
a numerous Bombahadur act the village bar uselessly.
And I use to pat it urging not to drip now onward
but always it does not forget to flow by crossing the edge of eye

I am harsh. But I don’t know again
how I am transforming gently into liquid
It is difficult to say
why always I flow by becoming a salty river
and in this process why I end somewhere
Don’t know that why I do not flow as hands
why I always flow as eyes only I have not any answer

But it falls uselessly. And crossing the hillocks of eyes
it ever downpour unnecessarily.

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