Jibanananda Das (17 February 1899 – 22 October 1954 / Barisal / Bangladesh)

Ah kite, golden-winged kite, don’t cry any more this noon
of moist clouds, as you hover around the Dhanshniri river
Your whimper reminds of her eyes dim as pale cane-fruit!
A pretty princess she has drifted afar,
leaving the Earth bereft of beauty;
Why do you call her back?
Who wants to stir up pain by digging heart?
Ah kite, golden-winged kite, stop crying this noon
of tearful clouds, while flying around the Dhanshniri river.

Translated by Faizul Latif Chowdhury