When I will die, 

you’ll get a beer bottle besides me. 

Empty that sizzling liquidity under northern lights. 

You’ll get some bucks from my pocket, 

Use that to buy some lollipops and give them to men inside a near by jail with an assuring handshake. 

And you will get a bengali poem of Shakti Chottopadhyay, 

Give that page a boat ride for one last time.