/* Angrabhasa is a small nondescriptive river flowing inside Gairkata, where I have my Maternal Uncle's home and a lot of fond memories of childhood */
Tell me for whom a river murmurs…
Why the hands of women beckon only in dreams?
That same melancholic languor breaking into oblivions
And then vanish into such penultimate!
Who knows and when?
The waves stagger mischievous inside Angrabhasa
Like that village fair breaks in one evening inside Gairkata
Everyone now leaves
Only the candle lights survive in and around a corner
Condense inside sharp pitches of lonely rats
The lonely fair now sings the song of Angrabhasa
The waves striking and kissing boulders
And lifting them up inside a possessed pleasure
This fair floats inside the same dream inside Angrabhasa
Like a touch of a heart floats a mind
This love, this condensed memory seems like a reddened skin of an onion
Bereft of any sting
Just sweetening, just enamoring
Now floats in silence inside Angrabhasa
The fair will come back on the next Sunday
My past days will not
Alas! Will never come back!
11th April 2010
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem