Enough

 

I haven't heard the word in so long,
Neither in cash nor in kind;
It lingers in our language,
Yet nowhere in the mind.

I wonder what has become of the world.
The word still lives upon the tongue—
Only its meaning has departed,
Its quiet wisdom left unsung.

No limits, no borders, no boundaries;
No ceiling for our wants.
A craving divorced from every need,
Greed gallops beyond all restraint.

Until we learn to say, "Enough,"
No treasure fills the empty soul;
The richest hands remain outstretched,
Begging perpetually for the elusive whole. 

A sudden return

 

as I'm having my breakfast today
on the table I bought from the auction
I think of the eaters of the brown years...
what could they have loved,
what could they have argued upon,
how their lives were!

I am yet to finish my breakfast yet,
in my book of thoughts
I'm turning the leaves of relevance  

Elsewhere

 

When I'm in the office,
My heart wanders home.
When I'm sailing on the sea,
I yearn to be on the road.

When I was a child,
I hurried toward old age;
The old, in silent longing,
Turn back another page.

When tomorrow comes at last,
Yesterday steals my gaze;
Desire walks beside me
Through today's endless maze.

So I gather every moment,
Neither chasing nor afraid;
For life is not elsewhere—
It blooms where we have stayed. 

বিপুল ক্ষতি

...

মানুষের পাশে পুলিশেরা আসি
মুখোশ ফেলিল খুলিয়া
পরিপাটি করা অম্বরখানি
নির্মম করি খুলি দিল টানি
ভিখারি নারীর চিরবাস আনি 
দিল রাণীদেহে তুলিয়া ! 

পথে লয়ে 'তাঁরে' কহিলেন নেতা 
মাগিবে দুয়ারে দুয়ারে
১৫ বছরের লীলায় তোমার
যেভাবে বাংলা করিলে উজাড়
যতদিনে পার সে সব আবার
গড়ি দিতে হবে তোমারে।

বছর ১৪ দিলেম সময়
তারপর ফিরে আসিয়া
সভায় দাঁড়ায় করিয়া প্রণতি
সবার সম্মুখে জানাবে নেত্রী
হয়েছে বাংলায় কতটুকু ক্ষতি,
পাথর, বালি, মাটি লুটিয়া।

Ashes of Desire

 

Ashes of Desire

the last deer disappeared
with the last villain, the tiger
trees and the grasses kept
the gardens intact
the air and the water and the sun
were all present
in the tableaux of artists
but there was no life, no insect
all burnt into ashes of desire

...

Les Cendres du Désir

Le dernier cerf disparut
avec le dernier scélérat, le tigre.

Les arbres et les herbes
préservaient encore les jardins.

L'air, l'eau et le soleil
étaient toujours présents,

mais seulement dans les tableaux
des artistes.

Il n'y avait plus de vie,
plus aucun insecte,

tout avait été réduit
en cendres du désir.

কামনার ছাই

শেষ হরিণটি হারিয়ে গেল
শেষ দুষ্কৃতীর সঙ্গে—
বাঘটিও।

গাছেরা, ঘাসেরা
তাখনও আগলে রেখেছিল
উদ্যানের নিস্তব্ধতা।

বাতাস, জল আর সূর্য
সবই ছিল—
শিল্পীদের
ক্যানভাসের ভেতর।

কিন্তু কোথাও আর প্রাণ ছিল না,
একটিও পতঙ্গ নয়।

সবকিছুই
কামনার আগুনে পুড়ে
হয়ে গেছে
ছাই।

 

The Thirst of the Heart

 

Here is almost the moment
the instant
there is no longer the dark days
on the fading horizon
the luminous nights in the presence
of the radiant stars…

Hear my dear, it has grown
to bless this lifeless body
with a beating heart boundless
like water flowing without illusion
those frail hands will unite the
sorrowful knot of dreams
the protected radiance will rest
in witness, write upon the table
of the waters the foams, the froth
white, bright, salty
the burning thirst thrusts upon the heart
an ache that neither dawn nor dusk can
make it sweet, the yearning to drink thrashes
upon the shore of distant waters

The Earth Bows

 

Earth, a ship, your forehead
all bleeding red
the stars, the water in the blue
pages can be hardly read
the naked shoulder low, heavy
tired, bent
the heart grows cold
wars are bold, proud
love weak, old

….

The oil has reigned over her body
with shifting shadows
she bows before the boys and girls
for she’s leaving destruction
her neck drowned in shame
as one weighs the souls of the dead

Extinction

 

What we have done to the world
if it could ever see
it would hung its face in shame
what noise we have hit the world with
if it had a pair of ears it’d
have the blue horrors
in the frame

stone deaf, the world cannot hear
a word of what we say
remotely blind, it can hardly see
the daily blasphemy

it’s a stage, it provides us space nevertheless
for the game to play out
with players who pop in and out
in a flame of rage for name and fame
for a moment of weakness
the screen goes up, it falls
all the characters know is to destroy, demolish
delete, disappear existence until it goes extinct.

Walking along

 

I was walking
inside a screen
of a media or on a stage
I don’t know
it could be in a dream

I don’t remember the place

the space disappeared
it drowned, only the action
surfaced…it continued until
the legs were threatened
irs sound beat the eardrums
I wanted to stop, but couldn’t

if I stopped the limbs would be
severed it seemed, so I…
i went on and on
the flesh melted in the sweltering heat
if I stopped it meant I overstepped
into others’ domain;
there was punishment
if I stopped if I moved
but moving was
the better option so I found myself
walking meaninglessly, meaningfully
on and on, all alone, one on one.

The Papa cool

 

Bob teaches maths
like Hàorán, Kobayashi,
François, Salim, Sampath.

In the midst of differences
The content is the same,
Like the name of the game.

‘Come to my school
they are the fools
come run run
don’t go to them
you’ll miss the fun

I know the logic
I have the magic
I’ll show you all the trick’,
Says each Papa cool.