O lonely man! O lonely man!
Where is thy rugged winter coat?
Bore the ravages of eighty seasons,
that still makes thee soul to float.
O lonely man! O lonely man!
Where is thy loveth destiny?
Fought many a war and battles,
loved thy child and killed so many.
O lonely man! O lonely man!
What is thy eyes looking for thee?
O dear son, come back, I hear the
steps of Death marching towards me...
- Prasenjit Das © 97-99
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