(amay dak-diyechho kon-sokale keutha janena)
Nobody knows how early
In the morning Thou called me
My mind cried out all by itself,
But none acknowledge that
I go around absentmindedly,
Looking at everybody’s face
But nobody ever pulls me
The way Thou have been pulling
My music reaches high tone
When this closed-room quivers
Nobody push my door pane
Using their hands from outside
Who’s that eager one in the sky?
Memo being carried by wind
None talks about the secret thing
On their way around here
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
4/6/2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem