"রূপনারানের কূলে
জেগে উঠিলাম,
জানিলাম এ জগৎ
স্বপ্ন নয়।
রক্তের অক্ষরে দেখিলাম
আপনার রূপ,
চিনিলাম আপনারে
আঘাতে আঘাতে
বেদনায় বেদনায়;
সত্য যে কঠিন,
কঠিনেরে ভালোবাসিলাম,
সে কখনো করে না বঞ্চনা।
আমৃত্যুর দুঃখের তপস্যা এ জীবন,
সত্যের দারুণ মূল্য লাভ করিবারে,
মৃত্যুতে সকল দেনা শোধ করে দিতে।"

It whistled past me. And, I stood there, all alone, and a little confounded by it all.

Let me die in my own footsteps. 

I have been gathering my hemlock, drop by drop. One day, when flowers would scream into the ears of a frosty winter, I shall drink it to thee.

Feverish

It's quiet here.

I feel the warmth of overwhelming death on my forehead. To hate it, is impossible. To love it, is improbable.

Nothingness gleams over the cliff of barren thoughts. Sleep, I need some sleep, to sap the blinding thoughtlessness of consumptive dreams ..

And there is nothing left remarkable beneath the visiting moon.

How does death begin?

Holding hands to the end of eternity, till the next eternity arrives on your doorstep. That's how.

The fingers, once mine, are brown with yesteryears' stains. Whirling years go past the hubbub of distant cascades.

Silence erupts inside my head. It runs through my vanity.

I dig trenches inside my words and stare vacantly at the whiteness of new sheets. The edge of the blue starts bleeding, as slowly the rover vessel of darkness takes the rising tide.

Nights pile up on her lips. I try hard to fathom the darkness within them.

I dream with my eyes open, and see the serpent nibbling at the seam of an old cricket ball.