That get together at the coffee house is no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
Nikhilesh is in Paris, Moudul is in Dhaka, they are not in any news today
Grand's guitarist Goaniz DeSuza is sleeping in grave
Loving someone, getting hurt at last, Roma Roy is incarcerated in mental institution
Amol is struggling with tough cancer, life has not forgiven him, alas!
Grand's guitarist Goaniz DeSuza is sleeping in grave
Loving someone, getting hurt at last, Roma Roy is incarcerated in mental institution
Amol is struggling with tough cancer, life has not forgiven him, alas!
That get together at the coffee house is no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
Only Shujata today is living as the happiest person
Heard her husband is a millionaire
She is adorned with diamonds and golds completely
Her car and home are all pricey
Art college's student Nikhilesh Shamlal
used to draw picture for advertisements
And with full of talks in her eyes, like a silent listener
that Shujata only sat nearby
Heard her husband is a millionaire
She is adorned with diamonds and golds completely
Her car and home are all pricey
Art college's student Nikhilesh Shamlal
used to draw picture for advertisements
And with full of talks in her eyes, like a silent listener
that Shujata only sat nearby
That get together at the coffee house is no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
In one table that three or four hours, Char Minar cigarette burnt from the lips
Sometime Bishnu Dey, sometime Kamini Ray, debates went around about them
In hot sunlight or storm or the rain, wherever anyone was, after work we came to that place
Starting from four, having stimulating discussions, around seven thirty we used to get up
Sometime Bishnu Dey, sometime Kamini Ray, debates went around about them
In hot sunlight or storm or the rain, wherever anyone was, after work we came to that place
Starting from four, having stimulating discussions, around seven thirty we used to get up
That get together at the coffee house is no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
Poetic faced, hanging bag from the shoulder, Amol's name will be erased
Not a single poem of his got published, didn't get the appreciation of his talent
In the office's social manager, Roma Ray acted in drama
And read aloud what the newspaper's reporter Moidul wrote
Not a single poem of his got published, didn't get the appreciation of his talent
In the office's social manager, Roma Ray acted in drama
And read aloud what the newspaper's reporter Moidul wrote
That get together at the coffee house is no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
That seven persons are not there today but that table is still there
Even seven cups are not empty
In the same garden blossomed the new flowers
Only that past day's gardener is not there
Even seven cups are not empty
In the same garden blossomed the new flowers
Only that past day's gardener is not there
How many dream's sunlight rages in that coffee house
How many dreams get covered by the clouds
How many came and gone, and how many will come
Only the coffee house remain as it is
How many dreams get covered by the clouds
How many came and gone, and how many will come
Only the coffee house remain as it is
That get together at the coffee house is no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
Where have the golden evenings lost, they are no more, no more
No comments:
Post a Comment