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Legendary Poetry:>Jibanananda Das

Jibanananda Das (1999-1954) Banalata Sen For a thousand years I have been walking upon the bosom of my earth From Ceylon Ocean to a darkling night falling upon the sea of Malaya So much I've travelled! Into the dusky world of Bimbishar Asoka, I was there! Farther inside into that very darkness of city Bidarbha I am a tired soul Everywhere the oceanic foams of life throbbing for just only a while I was blessed with some peace At last! From her! She, Banalata Sen of Natore. Her hairs like an ancient dark night fallen on Bidisha, Face truly sculpted in vigor of Srabasti; Far inside an ocean, when a ship wrecked sailor had lost his vision All on a sudden as he discovered a grass green Inside an island cinnamon Like that only I have seen her in darkness! Quipped she, ďWhere have you been for so long? ď Her eyelids like a bird's nest, had opened She, Banalata Sen of Natore. When a day ends in wholeness, evening descends like a dew's whisper; Falcon wipes out the smell of sunshine from his wings; When all colors fade away from the face of this earth, records of life start unfolding; From inside a fabric of stories to the twinkling of fireflies all birds return to nests - all rivers - come to an end all trades of life; Only darkness now prevails and sitting face to face with Banalata Sen. Translation: Shamik Bose Having Done With My Ledger Of Life Finally, Iím done with the ledger of my life, Miss Banalata Sen! Where have you gone at this odd hour? Kingfisher hasnít neglected its midday sport, Sarika still returns to the nest, River has become frothy in exuberance, Still no sign of you, Miss Bonolata Sen! Havenít seen anyone like you Ė nowhere? Why did you have to leave ahead any of us? Makes me wonder Ė why you turned this world of ours, into a desert wasteland. (why it had to be you!) Shattering the wizardsís sorcery You departed from this earth, My familiar Miss Bonolata Sen. Many a gloaming must desend over the horizon, Many a night must we sleep next to a squalor Many a time must we rouse by wild wind, The night train must have reached the station amidst oak and jombu forest, taking away my night princes, Miss Bonolata Sen. Translation: A.H. Jaffor Ullah An October Morning In one October morning, some dewdrops fell on my face and hair. The dewdrops are here through sarika* birdís courtesy. Three drenched sarika birds almost touching an emblica^ tree enjoying the sunís warmth. Is it an indigo-laden blue field? Or is it an azure sky? Is it the sun? Or something sun-like? The bird slithers away from our world into its own. In my life, I have seen many sarika birds, but never have I seen anything like those three. Translation: A.H. Jaffor Ullah We Both Are Here, Again We both are here, again, in memory of sound birdís river of light. Thought we both are Egyptian mummies. Slumbering from morn to evening. Sporting ourselves as a morning breeze, swaying clusters of green leaves, or becoming a twig of emblica, sal, or even turning into silver hued falling rain, pretending to be all of the aboveó just you and me. We died so many times over and over again in many cities, bazaars, waterways, amidst blood, fire, blurred decadence, in the darkness of inauspicious moment. Even then, we pined for light, courage, and life. We cherished these in our heart and be history-bound. Our nest, we built somewhere. It shattered into pieces and we cried. On froth of the ocean, we giggled. We loved our life. Lightómore light passed away! If men depart today, humankind will remain here, curdled dewdrops will become in the parlance of history, the capital of man and woman.
Readers' Comments :

comment : 1
Thanks for the original bangla poem. -Md Nazmul Haque.

comment : 2
Shamik's work is fantastic... i have read other works. but this is good.
it rings as a poem and expresses its way, takes you to your destiny...
congratulations to both Shamik and Sayeed Abubakar...
- s n azad

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