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