Morning
The morning mourns the death of the night
In its queer language of light
The buses tram cars
The Babel where cuountless fragments
vie with each other
in lamenting the death of their mother
We are put into the hell
where the devil of the self-and - the- other
ceaselessly eat into each one of us
Oh Mother Oh Nothingness Oh Primordial Night
Turn off the windows
And resurrect
I want to leap into your arms
and forget the language of the binary
Om
poem by Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya
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