At the sanctuary with devotion and suppliant, you hurried to pray
You call me too before you go; ‘come quick, time is getting over…,’
I go, I have to go. Classical artistry covered walls attract me to go.
I lay myself on cool marble mosaics, watch wonderful chandelier
Greedy about fragrant flower garden, I find spiritual pleasure there.
To find the truth, starving dogs accompany me denying the anciently.
With dirty untidy hair, the mentally ill mother comes; says, “take this…,
Dilute the religion into water and drink!” Her stained black skin is
So bloodily sliced with razor blades that makes me utterly upset.
I flee myself away from ‘Devine Purity’ jumping over the sanctuary wall.
(translated by Ashoke Kar)
Senjuti Barua, Dhaka Bangaladesh