WITH THE HEARSE
We carried on firing in dark
And the silence was fragmented,
Those incessant sparks
Tore apart flesh and blood
Along with multiple groans.
In that chiaroscuro,
A glimpse of that Iraqi child
Who resembled my dead son,
Was besmeared with pain --
Hell, the information was wrong!
A marionette was I
Dying of unlamented slaughter,
He wouldn’t come again smiling
With those innocent hands,
But came million times in nightmares!
- Sumanta Chatterjee.
And the silence was fragmented,
Those incessant sparks
Tore apart flesh and blood
Along with multiple groans.
In that chiaroscuro,
A glimpse of that Iraqi child
Who resembled my dead son,
Was besmeared with pain --
Hell, the information was wrong!
A marionette was I
Dying of unlamented slaughter,
He wouldn’t come again smiling
With those innocent hands,
But came million times in nightmares!
- Sumanta Chatterjee.
মন্তব্য যোগ করুন
এই লেখার উপর আপনার মন্তব্য জানাতে নিচের ফরমটি ব্যবহার করুন।
মন্তব্যসমূহ
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Înšigniã Āvî ২১/০৯/২০১৩
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পল্লব ২০/০৯/২০১৩ভাল লিখেন, তবে বাংলায় আপনার লেখা পেলে আরও ভাল লাগতো।
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সালমান মাহফুজ ২০/০৯/২০১৩বাংলায় লিখার অনুরোধ রইল ।
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সুমন্ত চ্যাটার্জী ২১/০৯/২০১৩অনুরোধ রক্ষা করলাম বলে ...
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I, you..they cry so much but what it takes