A prayer for all my agonies of all my days, I will offer, at the end, Till then it is unsaid, my prayer to be told. When the birds in evening shadow set all away to the shelter of their nests ? When the bell for evening prayer is tolled, the last of this life’s light will be bold, Then it will be said : my prayer to be told.
The vortex of memories of yore bind me in knots of deep despair,
Welling up within me this hold. When through spout of a sacred censer one by one the stars all appear, Flying free across a boundless horizon, a vision of the sunset will be my preparation, Then it will be said: my prayer to be told.
by Partha Mukherjee
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