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Legendary Poetry:>Jibanananda Das
Jibanananda Das (1999-1954)
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
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
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
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
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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