‎The Silence of Multiplicity

‎Mesfakus Salahin, Bangladesh

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‎I stay up all night

‎I tie my mind’s  horse

‎In an invisible thread

‎The horse flies away into solitude

‎The thread is weak

‎The earthly mind

‎Floating in the mysterious water

‎The self is always deceived

‎in the midst of the trance

‎The new-fashioned arrogance plays

‎Written in the dew of a leaf of grass

‎Returning again and again

‎The horse blows away the dust

‎Leaving everything behind, its own circle

‎In the circle of greed, in the crowd;

‎In the story of life, in the prose of wealth;

‎Only searching for oneself in the depths

‎In the deluge that pierces the veil of night

‎The intention of touching a straight line

‎Wakes up in the estuary

‎I cut the blood line

‎I cut the dark mountain and catch the guest

‎The sky descends with the color of the sky

‎The guest is lost in the unknown

‎All darkness becomes light through discussion

‎The soul enters the grave of the night and moves

‎The night does not remain in the grave

‎The greedy hand does not remain

‎Day does not remain

‎Whatever is colorful becomes bare

‎There remain deeds and lamentations

‎The dead river of boundless time have crossed

‎In the living grave, night remains, the illusion of night;

‎The shadow of day on the back of day

‎The multiplicity of self

‎The silence of multiplicity