The Midnight Minutes

48 degrees was it the day, and momentless is midnight this standstill!
Struck and emptied, yet a boxful of desires keeps me awake.

A streetlong of silence, only to be broken into pieces…..
somewhere a stray dog keeps on barking throughout….crying as if.

Desires so many….unfulfilled and unfurled, enslaves me;
I am dragged into this midnight.
Anger creeps in, crawls up….steep on the table….deep within.

In the cyclic redundancy of yearly living,
this easy uneasiness is ever on a comeback.
A flower raised its fist of fury!

Whispering darkness, busy press, it’s midnight.
Saddled and exhausted, yet a bagful of dreams keeps me awake.

Seen are some meagre souls here and there….their filthy fairy tales;
And the rattling rat race they are in, goes on….but nowhere.

Modhyorater Loo
Translation by Bikash Roy


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