Sadat Sayem

A Path Leaving the City

A path is leaving the city,
Walking straight, head downward,
Carrying on its chest, a torn envelope,
A small red sock, the faded front page of newspaper,
A severed piece of a prostitute’s saree,
A condom looks like a withered snake.

Where will it go? It carries so much aches of the city
Like a scared person, it walks,
Leaving everything behind.

Translated by Zarin Tasnim

The Note

I’m utterly clueless where I have put the note. Whether it is in my shirt or my trousers’ pocket, or have I lost it, I just cannot remember. All I can recollect is my mother gave it to me when I was born and said: I got two more eyes. My father also thought the same. I see the world with my own eyes, though. Still, I’m searching for the note.

Translated by Zarin Tasnim

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