Poems of Piyal Roy
The Innocent
Wayfarer, whom will you hold a mirror to now?
Every hand already clutches a mirror glittering, vain.
Time changes its mood each passing day,
And people drunk with delight, now burn one another.
The earth is aflame with wildfires today
Who sold fate to whom, and in which forgotten alley?
I beg of you, wayfarer, turn around, go back
Here; no one remembers the shape of their own soul.
So many now are like weightless, disembodied dolls,
Strangling their own throats to sip on their own blood.
They assassinate the agony of awareness
Wayfarer, just once; witness this sorrow-struck land.
In every cell, hunger is pinned like sharp needles
No comfort remains… even truth is now obscure.
There’s no return. In the final hour, by some blind mistake,
Love’s once-pure essence has turned to barren desert.
Answer Me
Where are you all? Answer me, speak.
This darkness pierces the skin like a sewing needle.
Threading itself through every breath.
Open your eyes once –
let a surge of light spill across the sky,
unsettle the horizon,
wake the winds from their numbness.
Bend to the earth once
let soil press against your body,
take in the raw, urgent scent
of a bud on the edge of storm.
A few trees,
clouds holding the weight of unborn thunder.
A few courtyards,
lamps trembling in their small territories of warmth.
Stay awake and paint through the night,
let your brush uncover
what the darkness tried to hide in dreams.
So much war, so much death.
My knees can no longer carry me.
Rice burns into bitter ash
where can I hide my hunger?
Even the gods have abandoned their rage,
smiling faintly,
shedding responsibility
as if shaking dust from their hands.
I lie on the roadside
like a snapped, discarded branch.
Me, half-eaten remains
of what was once human.
Life itself feels weightless,
like husk that a careless wind can lift
and scatter without consequence.
Where are you? Let the voice break through.
Who has mixed poison
into the sanctuary of shade?
We must search now, before the last trace fades,
who celebrates death with shining eyes,
who has surrendered their humanity
to this intoxication?
Where are you all? Answer me.
Come close, just once, and say it in my ear:
that even in a world torn open,
Love among humans has triumphed through ages —
Souls have found their kin in one another.
Piyal Roy was born in Durgapur, India, holds a Master’s degree in Bengali Language and Literature. She stepped into the world of writing during her college years, and since then her voice has continued to deepen in resonance and craft. Her body of work includes four acclaimed poetry collections — Joler Shontan, Dhuli Theke Dhusor, Prageitihashik Aadorer Chihno, and Atondro Violin — each bearing the imprint of her lyrical intensity and contemplative gaze. Beyond poetry, she writes essays and free-form prose that blend reflection, memory, and a quiet, searching tenderness. Piyal Roy currently serves as Associate Editor for the India chapters of Shikor (published from the UK) and Global Poet and Poetry, where she continues to nurture voices and visions within contemporary literature.
About Translator: Faruk Ahmed Roni is a profound poet and a prominent figure in the global literary landscape, having dedicated many years to fostering cross-cultural dialogue through poetry from his base in the UK. He is the respected founder and editor of two globally acclaimed literary journals: ‘Shikor’ and ‘Global Poet and Poetry’. For an impressive twenty-seven years, these journals have been published successfully and regularly, featuring the work of poets across numerous languages and continents, serving as vital bridges between diverse poetic traditions worldwide. Beyond his role as an influential editor, Roni, by himself a profound and accomplished poet, whose own creative voice contributes significantly to contemporary Bengali and diaspora literature.
***************************
