`
Nor a whisper
Nor a sound,
Not a gurgle
The brook is bound
The air is still
No wind does blow,
Nor barks the dog
Nor caws the crow
For they like the quiet
They like the lull,
They like no stir
But the rust-red dull
No gibberish they’ll bear
No prattle, no chatter
They only talk
Talk what does matter
There are ladies
There are gentlemen,
Not a child alive
The heart’s so dead, lives the brain
It’s the kingdom of the wise
The kingdom of the grave
Such a proud kingdom they made
They, the living dead
`
Nor a whisper
Nor a sound,
Not a gurgle
The brook is bound
The air is still
No wind does blow,
Nor barks the dog
Nor caws the crow
For they like the quiet
They like the lull,
They like no stir
But the rust-red dull
No gibberish they’ll bear
No prattle, no chatter
They only talk
Talk what does matter
There are ladies
There are gentlemen,
Not a child alive
The heart’s so dead, lives the brain
It’s the kingdom of the wise
The kingdom of the grave
Such a proud kingdom they made
They, the living dead
`
Chandannagar, WB,
May, 2004
