Drawing Bloodstains Poem by Sanjib Saha

The final breeze enters,
like a flock of white pigeons.
It seems that countless sighs
are mixed with the waves of peace in the air, in the dead soul.

The earth, its breath,
trees, birds, creatures, grass,
and humans all carry it (the soul) forward on their wings.

My father said,
'Take care of her, Madhumoy.
She has a world of fear.
Stay with her when I'm gone.'
Before that,
he was confined to a cabin,
hoping for relief from pain,
leaving behind
glittering gold ornaments.

Many dreams walk away
in the evening.
Even the divorce letter arrives, Father doesn't return.
Madhumoy returns to the honeymoon.

Now, in the dead of night,
even if Srijaa and Srijita merge, there's only fierce revenge
and defiance,
no words emerge in poetry -
only bloodstains drawn
on the breast.