The jester walked in the garden: The garden had fallen still; He bade his…
by Dev
Down in my heart I have always been clear As this clarity of waters. Oh,…
“Come, let’s have a roof over our heads awhile. Look, further on ahead,…
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this…
I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than…
All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.…
What can be explained is not poetry. YEATS
ঝড়ে যায় উড়ে যায় গো আমার মুখের আঁচলখানি। ঢাকা থাকে না হায়…
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety…
