Death has no song

I removed the piece of cloth

on Tista's breast,

and there those two red lotuses

still,like the depth of time.

Time is as if some other lost river,

like that lost river

we are getting lost

one by one,

Our faces melting in the stream.

One such evening

one such face came out

from the depth and gazed

at me.

Today the river lost her name

time has lost its end

death has lost its song,

and the sunrise has lost its freedom.

Still there is love

Still you are

Still I am

we live in our maverick verses.