Hood-covered face, hands tied
at the back. On the alter-plank
breeze frozen in bitter hangman's odour
who computes time?
Doctor Cop Judge Warden or None!

I unfurl myself in the dungeon cloud
where salt-sweating history of dirt is tamed
the rope quivers fat at first
Weak jerks thereafter calm, with dumbness of bawl
wherein bards and butchers repeat their fall
I revive my rise.

The rising is singular. None other for monster of words whose feet adore the ruined universe.

I don't face the gallows everytime to keep alive
a dynasty of faith of those who are spawned for death.

(Translation of Bengali original 'Arekbar Uhuru')