It's Only The Poetry
A Anjandev Roy
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I see everywhere
In the dull and unpleasant weather,
Nothing is for me,
The birds do not sing for me,
The flowers do not bloom for me,
The breeze does not blow for me,
The river does not flow for me,
Being sad and dejected,
I think and think,
After a prolonged thought,
I find that
It's only the poetry
Which sings for me in all seasons
And for this I am alive.
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