-Mahmuda Begum Sinthia :
The ixoras are fully bloomed.
Everything is so perfumed.
I have managed to capture these in my mind.
A warm sunny morning at the Lake-Wabda
Is flashing on the scarlet petals.
O macrocosm! They are the apostles of adjustables.
They can read my history of mystery.
They try to nurse my wounds.
Almost they have stopped their dancing.
The sky is so gloomier.
My existence is also inferior.
Now I have lost myself like a fancier.
I am overshadowed in a black crate.
So it is unfeasible to trace how I am now.
So the flaming beauties are glowing like my inward redness.
My being will be graved in ground.
But in some ground, the ixoras will remain for me.
This history of despondency will exit as a wee.
