For there endures obscurity over the world and the heaven,
Whilst the enraged spirit of dawn repudiates to awaken,
Urge you, O glimmer from oblivion to advance,
And offer the visor ambiance a vivid glance.
There subsists in the cradle of the night’s taciturn,
An unheeded smolder, solitary to out burn,
Enabling a tether free haul, by some anonymous twine,
Of my Soul, into the prison of inert dowels, to confine,
Where existence embraces the name of seclusion,
With anguish which blinds each splendor, to imprison,
And release the setting rays of pleasure for an oppress,
As bandits of time burgled the treasure of breathing in recess.
The Season of my infancy is strayed into a lost World’s breath,
And I am altered to a mute mortal underneath shadows of Death,
Over the loam of lesions where reigns brutality,
O glimmer, weep not for me in the name of mortality.
By
( Smita Dey Tarafder )
