Soars up to touch some strange sky,
And I here reminisce and rewrite
The story of a forgotten past soaked with
tears.
The dew drops on the river bank
Dazzled once with silvery dreams–
Dreams that to-day appear
To be a mass of
helplessness.
Like the lost identity of a tormented life
The dying light of those unknown stars
Crushes what little ego is left in me.
And then I decorate the lawn
Of my pleasures and pains
Only with deeper
frustrations.
The definitions of a strange exhaustion
Thrill me these days at times.
But I keep myself miles away
From those million prying eyes
Only to taste the sweetness
Of your relationship–something rare for me.
And I pervade like a mirage
The deserted darknesses
Drenched by my own tears.
Translated from Oriya by Brajakishore Das