Of that Love Poem by Jayanta Mahapatra
Of that Love
Of that love, of that mile
walked together in the rain,
only a weariness remains.
I am that stranger now
my mirror holds to me;
the moment's silence
hardly moves across the glass.
I pity myself in another's guise.
And no one's back here, no one
I can recognize, and from my side
I see nothing. Years have passed
since I sat with you, watching
the sky grow lonelier with cloudlessness,
waiting for your body to make it lived in.
Of that love is one of the early poems of Jayanta Mahapatra which he wrote in the beginning and from the early collections of his poetry wherein he tries to recollect and reminisce what it is love, what it the feeling of it, how have the times fled, how the memories lingering by. Jayanta as a poet is first an image-maker. Of that love is a poem of recollection, reminiscence and remembrance. The poem is like Lost Love, Wordsworth’s sweet remembrance about Lucy Gray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/2/2024 7:46:48 AM # 1.0.0.1119
'Of that Love' is a remembrance, a sweet memory of that love which but existed once, o that love which bound both of them into an emotional bonding, sympathetic bond, but that love is gone perhaps, where is she now? He just remembers.