Rabindra nath thakure subhashini poetry part 1

Rabindranath Thakure  When the girl’s name was Subhashini, who knew she would be a baba.  At the age of two, Bain was given the names Sukeshini and Suhasini, so at the request of Mill, his father named the sixth girl Subhashini.  Now everyone calls him Subha for short.  The two daughters have got married due to search and money laundering, now the sixth one is in the soft heart of the parents.  Not everyone thinks what he says or feels, so everyone was worried about his future when they met him.  He had understood from his childhood that he had come to his father’s house as a curse of God.  The result was that he always tried to keep you hidden from public view.  I think everyone lives forgetting me.  But no one ever said goodbye.  She was always awake in her parents’ mind.

In particular, his mother saw him as a fault of her own;  Because the mother sees the daughter as her own part rather than the son – when she sees the imperfection in the daughter’s corner, she thinks that it is especially a cause of her own shame.  The father of the daughter seemed to love Banikantha Subha a little more than his other daughters, but the mother was very upset with him, knowing him to be a disgrace to her womb.  Suva wasn’t talking, but she had two black eyes with long, plump eyes – and her lips quivered at the slightest hint.  The expressions we express in words, we have to build a lot of our own effort, in terms of translating some;  Not always right, lack of power – is often wrong.  But, the black eye does not have to translate anything – the mind casts a shadow over it;  Thoughts are never extended to him;  Sometimes it shines brightly, sometimes it comes out of the bath, sometimes it comes out.  Astamana seeks incessantly in the power of the moon, sometimes in the power of fast moving electricity.  The language of the eyes of one who has no other language than the expression of the face is infinitely generous and profoundly profound – the calm arena of a lot of clear skies, dawn and shadows.  There is a greatness in this speechless human being according to the great nature.  This is why ordinary boys and girls are afraid of him.  Did, did not play with him.  He is speechless and companionless in the sense of a lonely afternoon.

The name of the village is Chandipur.  The river is a sixth river in Bangladesh, according to the girl of the household;  Not far-reaching;  The relentless Tanvi River works to protect its shores;  He seems to have a one-on-one relationship with everyone on both sides of the aisle.  Laikalaya on both sides and shady high coast;  Gramalakshmi Srotasbini, who has forgotten herself through the lower floor, has taken a quick step towards her innumerable welfare deeds with a cheerful heart.  Banikantha’s house is on the river.  His bakhari fence, atchala, gayalghar, chankishala, straw pile, tamarind floor, mango jackfruit and banana orchard are just a sight to behold.  I don’t know if the Beba girl is noticed by anyone in this domestic affluence, but whenever she retires from work, she comes and sits on the bank of this river.  As if nature fills its lack of language.  As if talking on his behalf.  The murmur of the river, the noise of the lake, the song of the middle, the call of the birds, the murmur of the birds, all the movement in all four directions – the movement – united with the vibration, like the waves of the sea, the everlasting heart of the girl – comes near the shore and breaks.  These varied sounds and varied motions of nature are also the language of the Ba’athists – a worldwide spread of the language of the wide-eyed Subaru;  From the grassy meadows to the silent stars, only gestures, gestures, music, cries and sighs.

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