The Moment

Why doesn't the dazzling sun of the day

            Tired of its’ daily errand, give way

To a dusk, unblemished and pure

            Painting the sky with vivid hues for sure;

With shades of vermillion and yellow

            And tinges of orange and red to follow;

Hinting the longing birds that it’s time

            To fill the air with sweet muttering rhyme

Rejoicing the flight back to their nest

            Forming nebular silhouettes on the west;

Creating the moment

            When it’s not so hard

For my feelings to give vent

            Not uttering a word?

Why doesn’t the crescent shaped moon

            Illuminated by an unknown boon

Hide her visage with slender shrouds

            Of freely floating white clouds,

Playfully wafted by the wanton wind

            Of the crazy joyous month of spring

Webbing a vista of mysterious mesh

            Of charming moonlight and shade

Creating the moment

            When it’s not so hard

For my feelings to give vent

            Not uttering a word?

  

Why doesn’t the undergrowth thick and green

            Spread apart revealing a path calm and serene,

And with all its veiled mystery and guile

            Tempt me to tread along it and reconcile

With sights of butterfly adobes with fragrance delightful

            And of grass blades adorned with pearls plentiful,

Leading onto a lake clear blue and pure

            With reflections of trees and the sky azure,

Where playful swans oblivious of pain and pleasure

            Craft perfect symmetrical ripples on the water
Creating the moment

            When it’s not so hard

For my feelings to give vent

            Not uttering a word?

           

The dazzling sun of the day

            Tired of its’ daily errand has given way

To a dusk, unblemished and pure

            Painting the sky with vivid hues for sure.

The crescent shaped moon

            Illuminated by an unknown boon

Has hidden her visage with slender shrouds

            Of freely floating white clouds.

The undergrowth thick and green

            Spreading apart has revealed a path calm and serene.

This is the moment for my feelings to give vent.

But to whom? I wonder.

Alas, I’ve lost her forever.

           

           

  

           

             

Asampurna (Incomplete)

আমি একটি দীর্ঘ কবিতা রচিবার তরে

     ছন্দ খুঁজি ফিরি পাগলের ন্যায়।

শত সহস্র বাক্যরাজি লুকায়ে রয় মনের মাঝারে,

     তাহারা কভু গো ধরা নাহি দেয়।।

যাহার জীবন ছন্দহীন, যাহার হ্রদয় বিদির্ন শোকে,

     সে কি কভু পারে মিলাইতে ছন্দ ও তান?

ঘনঘোর বরিষনের রাতে, ভয়ঙ্কর বজ্রনিনাদে,

     শোনা কি যায় কোনো পাখির কলতান?

তবু সাথিহারা এই আমি মিথ্যা আশার করি চয়ন,

পথ চেয়ে থাকি বসে নিয়ে দুটি ক্লান্ত নয়ন।

সকলি আশার হোক অবসান – নিভুক তবে শেষ আলো,

     আজি এই নব ফাগুনের প্রাতে তবে আঁধার ঘনাক কালো।।

মনে পড়ে আমি তোমারে ভালবেসেছিলেম

একটি দীর্ঘ কবিতার মত।

চেয়েছিলেম বহু যতনে করিতে সঞ্চয়

জীবনে ছন্দ-মিল-তাল আছে যত।।

বুনিতে চেয়েছিলেম সকলি তায়,

কোন এক নব সুরের মায়াজালে।

ভেবেছিলেম সে গান গাহিব মিলিয়া দোঁহায়

এক সুদূর দেশে নবীন ঊষার কালে।।

     

Void

In the sinister darkness spread across the horizon

In the enclosing whirlpool of impenetrable firmament

In the pain nourished for thousands of years

In the vicious cycle of perilous destiny

In the universal consciousness of vast humanity

In the ominous thunders of dark rumbling clouds

In the anxiety of a rock strangled fountainhead

In the crests of gushing frothy ocean waves

In the ebb and flow of this exhausting life’s voyage

In the murmurs of raindrops on a shadowy night

In the desultory teardrops at hours of tranquillity

The remnants of my self still crave for thee.

শুন্যতা

দিগন্তবিস্তৃত ভয়ঙ্কর তমসায়
অসীম শুন্যতার সঘন আবর্তে,

শতসহস্র বছরের সঞ্চিত বেদনায়

করাল অমোঘ নিষ্ঠুর নিয়তিচক্রে,

বিশ্বজনসমুদ্রের অদ্বৈত চেতনায়

বর্ষণোন্মুখ কালো মেঘের উচ্চমন্দ্রে,

পাথরচাপা নির্ঝরিণীর দুঃসহ যাতনায়

ফেনিল জলচ্ছাসের রন্ধ্রে-রন্ধ্রে,

অবিরাম শ্রান্ত জীবনস্রোতের দোলায়

শ্রাবনের ঘনঘোর বরিশনের রাত্রে,

তৃষিত নেত্রের অশান্ত বারিধারায়

খুঁজে ফেরে মন আজও তাহারে।।

পশিবে কবে তারি সুমধুর তান মম ব্যাকুল কর্ণে,
রাঙাইবে কবে তারি তুলির টান মম রিক্ত মানসচিত্রে?

Beginning

Does it all end with an orgasm?

The long nurtured passions and desires

That flowed through my senses like

A gushing stream having its own life,

Like the wild restiveness of the Earth’s core

Keen for exploding out and show its prowess;

The thousands of preserved candid images

Of your flawless charming beauty in my memory,

Have been lost, as the radiance of

The magnanimous sun is lost in the

Depth of a colossal abyss, as the

Vista of far-flung hills are lost by

A slowly spreading wet mist.

Amidst the void, springs up never felt

Sentiments of promises and responsibilities

As the first drops of dew appear on the

Morning leaves from nowhere,

As the surfacing of freedom wings terminating

The long confinement of a caterpillar.

It all begins with an orgasm.

English phobia

This weird art of English communication
Has been the source of much of my tribulation.
So many words of various shapes and colors unknown
Flicker and loiter around my vision.
Are they the product of my sole imagination?
Or nebulae of fragments of memory well grown?



The nouns confuse me by their sheer multitude -
Abstract, proper, countable, collective.
My knowledge is evasive of the right attitude
To select the best fit from one of these.



The verbs come as a bit of relief after the torturous nouns
The adverbs being the decor in their crowns.
The adjectives – attributive, predicative, substantive so many of them
I don’t know how, when and where to use them.

Alas, the rhetoric and prosody seems to flee away during my speech;
The alliterations instead of befriending me have pushed me down a ditch.
Shakespearean literature resembles me of the Bermuda triangle
Chaucer and Spencer often clutch me down in strangle.

Solitude

Will you instil in me the eternal destitute of a deprived soul
And fill my finite head with the infiniteness of the firmament
Shall thou carry me with you to the time marking the beginning of time
And convey to me the purpose of my existence

Will I demolish all the unfathomable distances that separate us
Will I be ever able to touch your unadulterated mind
Can I foresee and rewrite the supposedly unchangeable destiny
Answer me, answer me – Oh my beloved solitude.

An Elegy

Amidst the vast outstretched lush green At the heart of my city The milieu used to be so serene But now it's no more - what a pity! Oh my fellow city men, - you look so mournful Due to some unfathomable grief and sorrow plentiful. I wonder what can be the reason behind this agony Haven't thou learnt to face the destiny? Wandering from one corner of the city to the other, I found the mob in pensive dither; And finally I came to know the answer. My fellow city men are bereaved for their leader. A leader indeed in the true sense of the word. Whose deeds inspire reverence in a bard; A leader who has exemplified courage, Who has been a true icon of patronage; Stupendifying the entire bunch of country men With his divine bestowed skills and sheer excellence But one must realize that nothing can last forever. Everything in this world be it human life be it success, is ephemeral. The golden days now lost in the abyss of oblivion, Should be conveyors of new hopes and sources of inspiration. Let the dawn of an unblemished era befall on you, Ending the gloom of nostalgic memoirs and bringing dreams anew. Let not the spirit of dominance die off from your heart Because somebody among you is our future leader.