Words flow like
a hidden river,
deep inside in the desert of my heart.

I cannot stop asking questions
the dead silence of my past.

Sometimes it so happens
The past is forgotten
only the path to past
fades away at a distance,
unknown faces from the buried past
surround me,
an uneasy calm.

You know
Poetry is like a
Jasmine for tomorrow
contained in the promise of your words.

Poetry starts where everything stops
but hardly ceases when
other currents flow.

Poetry never ends in me
I never end in poetry;
For moments
words take shelter
under a cover,
Just to begin their journey again.

My poetry never ends.

(Translated from Oriya by Anindyo Sengupto)