Two poems of Zafor Obayed

The Coffin of Blossoms

In the Coffin of Blossoms, we lay our sorrows to rest,
Tears, like petals, softly falling, in this flowery chest.
Unrestrained transactions in this world’s rising swell,
Oh, to begin anew, to the day of our first tear, we implore! Can we ever retell?

A loveless path ahead, a daunting, barren land,
For the uninitiated souls, it’s a heavy, crushing hand,
An illusion of strength, an invalid’s charade,
In the cacophony of illegitimate memories, we wade.
Yet, amidst this chaos, a quiet river flow,

Its solitude and touch, a solace that glows,
In the ebb and flow of life’s relentless tide,
Genuine emotions, like treasures, do abide.
The mystic slumber, its charms softly unfurled,
Tearing through the sheen of freshly bathed world,

In dreams, ambitions burgeon, unbridled and wild,
On the bourgeois base, we build our hope, reconciled.
Who shall cleanse the salt-sweat, love’s tender caress,

In the rainy mood, under a cloudy dress?
The skeleton of unspoken desires, in dust does hide,
Buried beneath the weight of mud, and sand’s cruel tide.

[Translated by Mihirkanti Choudhury]

Clouded Vision

Your face, a storm, with shadows deep,
A twisted smile where nightmares creep.
Potholes of fear, a path unknown,
Darkness whispers, cold and lone.

Solid ground beneath your feet,
A silent giant, strong and neat,
Pushes onward, ever true,
But frailty binds, fear cuts in two.

Sweat paints a scent of will to strive,
Yet, fear’s embrace keeps you alive.
From afar, a heart in pain,
Sees your struggle, etched in rain.

Love’s fierce storm breaks, a shattered plea,
To stand with you, to set you free.
Helpless hands reach, a silent cry,
Your clouded face, my lullaby.

[Translated by Mihirkanti Choudhury]
Mihirkanti Choudhury is a translator.
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