I will look at the sun
Every day I stood there
In the morning dew covered grass,
The grass populace team comes up
Footstool
The sun; Did not come.
I have selected twenty-one by number
Slogan, sit in the meeting
"The state language is like Bengali. Want bangla. "
Like a street ferry
No one listens to my call-
Some fuzz puffs out
Bloody my chest,
Leakage through my skull
Like wood-pimples.
Still I stand on the stand
Whispering darkness around me
So far,
Listen to the sun!
The sun did not come.
I got stuck with a knife in front of seventy-two
Blood starts to boil, boil
The meat is boiled,
I give my body in my own hands,
I did not give a single movement
I'm alive
I was dead, and like everyone else.
I wondered if he would have died
Hidden in the hidden, the sun will come to understand!
Someone assures me-
They will be judged for your body!
I am for justice, for the sun
Standing in.
The mark on the forehead is black and dry
Ribs bone,
The carcass is handcuffed.
Grasshopper groups by foot
Come on chest,
The dew that I've had when I-
Nevertheless,
The sun did not come.
Kaljoyee
