Add to list. She who has loved me always, Whose face I have yet to see, Like that woman Is this darkness, deepening, closing in upon a February sky. A certain vanished city comes to mind, In my heart wake outlines of some gray palace in that city. My lost heart, dead eyes, faded dream desires And you, woman- All these once filled that world. There was orange sunlight, Cockatoos and pigeons, Dense, shady mahogany foliage. There was orange sunlight, Much orange-colored sunlight, And you were there.
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From its arresting central image of standing naked before a life-drawing class, The Lonely Nude reveals a speaker who, even as she travels into the world, feels increasingly disconnected from it. In she travelled to Iowa as the Glen Schaeffer Fellow. She now lives with her family in Kereru, Hawke's Bay, in the house she grew up in. Fill in your email below to request a new password.
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One of the greatest poets of the subcontinent, Jibanananda Das redefined the parameters of Bengali poetry in the wake of the impression left by the work of his more traditional compatriot, Rabindranath Tagore. Idiosyncratic in style and with an affinity for the bylanes of the imagination, Jibanananda Das stands unusually close to the reader. The tensions of the everyday modern world are in his poetry, as well as Bengal's living land.