I'll tear out your avaricous tongues.
You who utter fantasies and call yourselves poets.
We don't need the tree of art
that has no root in the depth of the soil.
I know what a woman is,
I know what love is,
I have smelt many a flower.
But I never belonged to anyone
Ithica, my Ithica, is now in jail.
The state has sentenced her
for the offence of loving.
Today a wall stands between the two
Where have you kept them, where,
how many do you have?
Come, speak up, shouted
the police chief again and again.
while passing through wonderful moonlight
I saw a primeval bird drinking the moon
and devouring the silence of moonlit night
Finally no darkness can keep out
the morning light.
The red flood-tide of the rising sun
drives out the blackness of the night
Thirsty are my two eyes,
yet the sea is far far away.
A red rose seems to blossom
in my thirst
If I ever meet Nupur
I will tell her,
Tomorrow a procession shall march the street,
I ploughed this land
and grew in it golden corns.
But the seed I planted here,
at the expense of my blood and flesh