It has been a thousand years since I started trekking the earth
A huge travel in night’s darkness from the Ceylonese waters
to the Malayan sea
I have been there too: the fading world of Vimbisara and Asoka
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,
It was heard: to the post-mortem cell
he had been taken;
last night—in the darkness of Falgoon-night
When the five-night-old moon went down—
Once in a starry night sprawling on the cloud's edge
It occurred: am I a soul—or merely a ghostly spirit?
Under the moonlight of a desolate sea I discern
There is no meaning in living—I don't say this.
There is meaning for some, may be for all—may be a perfect meaning.
Yet I hear the white sound of wind-driven birds
In the water of the distant seas
I discern a few birds somewhere outside on grass,
dew drops dry-up in the sun rays
a few people—around their corn-field,
lonely like human beings
All day I inevitably encounter a cat here and there
In the shadow of trees or out in the sun, around
the pile of fallen leaves;
I catch sight of him, deeply engrossed like a bee,
Here lies Sarojini; I don't know if she is lying here!
Enough she had slept; — then one day she left for a far-away cloud.
Has Sarojini travelled that far, where - darkness over - a new horizon
wakes up under the focus of light?
Lying upon the stretcher perhaps fog clogs your eyes
Don't worry, death is not another unjust light;
How come then so many people embrace death,
craving a torch like flying ants?
This autumn night the tale of Subinoy Mustafi crosses my mind.
This all-knowing young man had the amazing power of making the cat and the mouse held between its jaws laugh all at once.
The white cat playfully biting on the mouse
or the anxious mouse being torn into pieces