...
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
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।
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
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
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.
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.
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.
Past…
hatred, violence.
Continents, countries,
neighbours, families,
lost in the land,
in the sand
of frozen memories…
living on the mounds
in the deeds of the dead.
Against nature
where love breeds like
a loving seed from the
depths of destruction
All desires come
with
an expiry date
the desire for that
scented eraser
or the friend espoused
that went out of hands
through the roughage of time;
time that never knew to
space times, constantly
rubbing, crushing the grinding
passage of time making
it a mesmerizing mess.
Of what consequence,
of what significance
is the house built
by those lovers
infested now with a
murder of crows
eaten by grass, alas,
they don’t even meet
to help each other
at times of distress.
The soul, the
self alone
has an infinite
shelf life, for as long
as it is there
in thin air, it lives,
it never leaves the breath
until it reaches death.
Là où s'en vont les vagues et les vents
Ma rencontre avec
l'amour
se raconte à travers
la nature.
Mais mes paroles,
dites ou écrites,
parfaites ou imparfaites,
ne se dévoilent jamais.
Jour après jour,
je me demande s
ouvent
où s'en vont
les vagues et les vents.
Where the
Waves and the Winds Wander
My encounter
with love
finds its voice
in nature.
Yet my words,
spoken or written,
perfect or imperfect,
never reveal what
lies within me.
Day after day,
I wonder still
where the waves
and the winds wander.
