This golden figurine- oh dear, will she ceaselessly crumble away,
In the night, in the sun, in the rain in the arms of another man?
Her nipples two bared switches,- switches? Hands tremble at their touch.
...
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Original flavour is not found. However a good translation.
Sunil is no more. He died on October 23,2012 at Kolkata. He was undoubtedly a great poet.
A tunnel-like alley- running through it lightning-fast, small change clutched....sounds of boots behind, a cigarette in the sleeping mirror's mouth, this hand! a great poem. tony