THE ENDLESS NIGHT

( translated by Boudhayan Mukhopadhyay)

On the thirty-six inches bed

You take six

And give me the rest,

Can I take so much space?

So much anger? Such void?

Can I? Can I?

On a thirty-six inches bed

If you occupy only six inches

How will I survive

This endless night?

The dust storm of Chaitra?_

WHY THIS RAINFALL OF LETTERS

( translated by Soma Roy)

That watercoloured dream

trampled by feet and lost forever,

Why flash on its face the light of letters?

That moon covered by ash-grey clouds,

Why a blue veil for it now?

That yellow velvety flower, already blown away,

Why should it now be drenched

in the rainfall of letters?

That river, distanced from its shores,

What more can a nor’wester give her now?

The morning, that walked into the hazy fog,

Can it be woken up

                      by the sound of dewdrops?_