Dayamoy Poddar
The Tale of Plaint and Proverbs
Some leaves and thirst are lying
In those evening flavored hands.
The breeze of ossified relics touches
The raging countenance.
The shadows are floating away.
But the stone gesticulates its natural trait
Of being overwhelmed and eager
The inscriptions and the lines on the palm are fading
As if I have appeared from the Stone Age
As if I’m returning to my cave
And on the way, I’m extracting nectar from the wild flowers.
The truth is poison, the poison in the slurp.
The cedar has dressed up with the threads of proverb.
Betrayal has paled your exuberant eyes!
River and the corpulent tissues of your navel
Are the shoreless manuscripts wailing over?
The deserted days of an abandoned civilization…
Translated by Subhrasankar Das
Suburban
Winter has arrived.
Riding a bicycle,
The hawker benignantly ferries
Woolen clothes and blankets
Before the sun sinks into the horizon.
As soon as the rays
Dripping from the trees
Standing along the narrow streets disappear,
The darkness blinds the sight.
The dogs and foxes fill the silence
With barking and howling.
The neighbors assemble in a moonlit courtyard.
Over a cup of tea, with a pair of thin arrowroot biscuit,
They put their heads together
About the affairs of seasons and farming.
In the light of earthen lamp, the mother
Concoct snakehead mural with gourd and chopped green pepper
The snakes prepare for the hibernation.
The impending dread as well as
The dreams of harvest
Stays awake alone in the Nature…
Translated by Subhrasankar Das
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