Sapless thoughts, like dry vines, cling to the facade
Untamed nature offend the feeble heart and its desires
Capturing the essence becomes a toiling effort
Time vanishes after being banished to some obscure place
Wind visits the unknown galaxies; here, life is an impasse
An illusion has grown bigger and persistent
Stretching the mind with a tremendous force
Parched voices scream in a broken language for help
Rugged terrains of this illusionary turmoil are lethal
~Amitav
Amitav, your words are so beautiful. I felt like reading Wordsworth’s poetry.
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Thank you so much. Very kind of you to say that. Wordsworth is one of the greates nature poets.
I feel nature is not being language is rarely translated; but what better way to do it through poetry.
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Indeed!
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