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.