THE THORN MIMOSA
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THE THORN MIMOSA Written by Taimur Khan & Translated by Dr. Md Siddique Hossain Assistant Professor, Department of Bengali, Bangabasi Morning College 19, Rajkumar Chakraborty Sarani, Kolkata- 700009, West Bengal, India ORCID ID: https://orcid.org/0009-0008-3912-7101-ID : 541708 Viwan-ID : 541708 Email: mdsh803@gmail.com ---------------------------------------- It might be my own sorrows That appeared in my Whole entity , as, Innumerable thorns all over my physique. The leaves on all my branches Quiver in solidarity ! In the arena of political hubble-bubble , I do stand alone - A desolate old man Like a lion without claws and teeth . The mischievous activist Irrespective of their allegiance to The doctrine of religion, or The party or the activists , Fly away from my vicinity! I've never been a first choice For any fatigued passer by To seek shelter under my shed On any searing summer days ! Some tired dove, though, With the intention of becoming a poet Harp on high-pitched coo intermittently . There's only sand And gravel from wilderness Beneath my roots The year long empathy Sustains me With compassion. The flesh is devoid of Any commercial viability But still the attire Made of thorns desires To break into a jig In the advent of the spring ! And lo ! I come out with plenty of amber coloured flowers Evidently to beautify the nature In my unique way !
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THE THORN MIMOSA Written by Taimur Khan & Translated by Dr. Md Siddique Hossain Assistant Professor, Department of Bengali, Bangabasi Morning College 19, Rajkumar Chakraborty Sarani, Kolkata- 700009, West Bengal, India ORCID ID: https://orcid.org/0009-0008-3912-7101-ID : 541708 Viwan-ID : 541708 Email: mdsh803@gmail.com ---------------------------------------- It might be my own sorrows That appeared in my Whole entity , as, Innumerable thorns all over my physique. The leaves on all my branches Quiver in solidarity ! In the arena of political hubble-bubble , I do stand alone - A desolate old man Like a lion without claws and teeth . The mischievous activist Irrespective of their allegiance to The doctrine of religion, or The party or the activists , Fly away from my vicinity! I've never been a first choice For any fatigued passer by To seek shelter under my shed On any searing summer days ! Some tired dove, though, With the intention of becoming a poet Harp on high-pitched coo intermittently . There's only sand And gravel from wilderness Beneath my roots The year long empathy Sustains me With compassion. The flesh is devoid of Any commercial viability But still the attire Made of thorns desires To break into a jig In the advent of the spring ! And lo ! I come out with plenty of amber coloured flowers Evidently to beautify the nature In my unique way !