What you take for a mirror
Is not a mirror really,
It's a ruthless cruel glass
No use blaming the mirror
There is blue blood running inside the mirror.
Better ask the basking sun
Ask the autumn clouds
Who is fairer than me in this world?

We have made out soul into a canned prisoner,
Who is drawing a perfect circle around it?
Who is standing on the cruel dock at noon?
Who calls out there like the birds?
Who plucks out his soul and shows the way
To those who have lost their way,
Tell me WHO?

Translated from Bangla by Harunur Rashid