Oh did you not know, that land is condemned
Many died and men make you walk through fire
From Ayodhya to New Jerusalem
Live by your prayer, or live by desire.
There’s a man at the table, drinking wine
With a fine woman dressed in a shari
She reeks of death but he thinks she’s divine
He’s drunk in her touch of pearls from the sea.
There’s a girl outside selling paradise
She seeks forgiveness, but will god agree
The path to be ruined, will they realise
Men want some comfort and she is the key.
He knows no one listens, he keeps gazing
Out the window of St. Pauls cathedral
Now the woman is no longer laughing
She caught a glimpse, the scars from the needle.
You’re on your own; I can tell you one thing
Nobody can make tears fall through a pen
Do you hear, like a Siren she can sing
Make you go round and round like Victor Sen.
About the author |
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Shuvam Dewanjee is a writer from Kolkata, West Bengal. Educated in Sociology from Presidency University, Kolkata; he writes in both English and Bengali. His works involve social, political, and literary themes and have been published in journals and magazines such as the Muse India Literary Journal, Contemporary Literary Review India, and Hatpakha Magazine among others. |