Sometimes the poet has to burn in the fire of separation

Sometimes the poet has to burn in the fire of separation.
Mintu Sareng.

 

That day in the winter afternoon poetry reading session

among all assembled,

How bored were you?

 

What was there to say?

The book of poetry matches

look at me

 

Read the poem

Among all the poets present,

 

your poem

Crowded in 'my comfort'

If you match

On the wings of a butterfly, in a humble love.

 

I look into your eyes again and again,

what is he

Kabir with poetry,

Or a lover of love.

 

The poets chat that day,

You had a moon face

Floating like a poem.

 

flowing blue water,

Apart from you, Anindita Sen was in the chat.

 

On a bright moonlit night, there was life in the chat.

 

Belly flowers are attached to your vinod khoppa.

My head was swaying in amazement.

 

Sitting next to you mixed with the smell of your light skin,

In a sudden burst of my blunted senses,

Do you wake up any wave of feeling in the soul.

 

Since then, I haven't come to hang out for a long time.

In poets' chat,

Poet, you didn't go either.

What a shame, I learned, much later.

 

Is love like this in poets chat?

 

Do not misunderstand poetry dear,

Poetry and love in the conversation of poets, sometimes together?

 

I like the poet sometimes

The fire of separation has to burn.

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