(poetry)
Like bastard babies , abandoned to their fate
a few drops of dews, on pale withered leaves
are startling in fear of the peering Sun
Yet this morn is blushing crimson
dreaming , of a newborn !
*********
Apprehending their death ,any time
under the triumphant archway of golden day
oh ! Lord, -how they shrink a-trembling
these dew drops - stranded !
(translated from Bengali by Umanath Bhattacharya)
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