Translated from Bangla by Md. Ziaul Haque.
When I stand the wall reflects the shadow,
My very own shadow. Two eyes are there
Behind the screen of the glasses, the procession of the khaki
I behold in the city everyday.
There is a head on the shoulder,
The head is beset with black and grey hair. Routinely
The air does pass through the tunnels of the nose.
I have a face,
Two hands, here goes my shirt,
Here is my chest,
The heart keeps beating,
Time and again. I have a pen, it is capped, Now I do write
Amid the wind, pages after pages.
And I have
An ID card ever
As all the urban dogs have
A silver disc around their necks.