The CurveThere is a curve somewhere,I am in search of,Like the glimpse of a scythe in a mundane field,Or the drooping fairy in form of Chinese lantern, Sometimes it peeps through a broken doorOf some dilapidated mansion,The reign of which now belongs to void,And pride went past heritage.Why on earth moses symbolizes melancholy?I can't take my eyes off from their rebellious green,As if it merges with my previous birthstones,Where I was in waiting,For the same curve,The lost one.

Contemplation There's a town just at the hollow of a valley,Where fragments of my being are scattered still,I do miss the hue, last seen while chasing a butterfly,The fragrance I remember from a withered leafy eye.A tune too close to tears,A sight every frame seems like a barrier.Alleys, spiral in nature,And I often forget,What it is called?Forbidden port orWaves of mortal sighs.

ইনফের্‌নো"কখনো রসনীতির উল্কি গাঁথতে-গাঁথতে ভেবো তো...এমনও তো হ’তে পারে মেয়াদ ফুরিয়ে নির্বাসিত হয়েছেন ঈশ্বর। জন্মের পর জন্ম...রাষ্ট্র, রেল, রুটি, রক্ত এসব ইকেবানা সাজাতে-সাজাতে হেরে-যাওয়া দলটা শুধু ধরতে পারে না, ঠিক কতটা বেলজিবাব শিরায় ঢোকালে মধুরেণ ঠেকবে সাড়ে চারশো কোটি বলিরেখা আঁকা মহাগোলকের ইনফের্‌নো।

To EliotBeneath the skin of every colleen,There's a snail.It shrinks looking at another rally of candles,Squeezes too feeling lips of her man,Smeared with different glosses.She screams at times,You raise the volume of your sound system.Ah!silence is peaceful,Only she knows vacant silences draw the curtain.Upon her stage,No great crime or chivalry is performed,As they are patent of the first race.It's like putting out some lamps,There's no word in dictionaryNamely hollow women.