Dilemma Poem by Nazrul Islam

Should I treat you, O my Friend,
Or leave your blood to shed?
Thy wounds are deep, so hard to sip
And know not why they are.

You hurt my dad, you hurt my lad,
You hurt my thousands of bees.
Thy wounds of past make me hurt,
How I treat you thee?

Countless you are visible on the way,
Blended, and your spirits are fowl.
Unto the last you sense and lay,
I rag my worn out soul.

My heart's now a dumped heap,
I too have my tracks to leap.
Should I treat you, O my Friend,
Or leave your pain to sweep?