Bored bard

The bored bard sings on the way
Across the bents of many unknown villages
On the bucolic path full of memories
Where cries and laughs are hidden.

There is no time to stop
The moments passes by the wind
Bard in his melodious tune
Sings about what is hidden in his heart.

The series of the mathematical table-book
Cannot be forgotten anymore
That's how the sweet melody of his
Remains in the middle of the heart.

His life was spent by singing
By the river side of this worldly affairs
That's why always with anxious eyes
Looks back again and again.

(This poem is dedicated to those lone singers,
called Baul (bard) in Bengal and the society have forgotten them.)