Look there,
at day’s end the red krishnachura blossoms
have scattered and fallen.
The red palash of spring,
or
look, lying in the road,
the corpse of that shimul flower.
.
Look there,
grown rough and worn,
the child’s once-soft, tender cheek.
Look, look closely,
your proud boy today
is a fish-thieving tomcat.
.
Malabika, look,
lift your face, open your eyes,
now forget
the love you never had.
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