In the hustle and bustle of Dhaka city;
I am sitting on Manik Mia Avenue holding the neck of the setting sun.
The polluted air calls out to me,
"Look, the leaves of the trees are busy and covered by the dust layer of the city,
And the crow's feathers look tired!"
"Listen, there are so many types of words around of us. One word 'Want’ in the midst of so many words, has been ringing in my ears from millions of years, from village to village, from city to port, from one civilization to another"
I can touch the word 'Want' but I can't handle it!
Can't hold the collar of the word 'Want"!
The sun goes down again and again without blaming me for the failure, since then ...

Mashiur Rahman Mashi