Inner Realm_ Bengal_ A Silent State_ Poem by Prabir Gayen

Inner Realm
Bengal __ A Silent State_

The restless wind around the city dances,
With pain in loaded breast to spill upas,
On the line where little child plays joyous,
The wind is blowing to and fro, madness.
The sky is cloudy with poison deadly,
People are dying with empty bowels,
Dying happily for their pleasant leaders.
The leaders are happy with song in soft heart's.
Bengal is a state of misery and joy.
People are dying with hearts full of peace,
to make their beloved leaders frolic.
Leaders are devoted to wives and swain.
On the bed of crimson desert and chock,
People are tied to listen to song still.
The shadow is not felt of bygone fools,
Who with foolery oozed blood for liberty,
The shadow of death devoured the steppe.
People are soulless soil, sterile for norm.
Bengal is a state of coloured fox, Janus.
With heedless minds pounce they to the chameleon.
The shadow of nothing is deep around,
Child is born with banners in hands to show,
They are not going to think on their mind own.
Song is playing, still silent song of peace,
Only one anomaly, there is no one.
The headless rabble praise the predator.
The greedy, Lecherous, Caprine on throne,
To dictate the verse of deuce, Beelzebub.
On the pasture where sweet lotus, rose bloomed,
Dewy crackers are glittering for spectrum.
Bengal is a big churchyard free of words.
The booming heart with no revolution.