Euphoria Poem by Debayudh Chatterjee

Your voice sounds different over the phone, still,
The tête-à-tête we desired for, beyond sms-es,
Isn't adequately unusual….
While enlightening you on Browning,
I graze past Denver, medieval folk-lore
And plunge into Love's intensity…
Before the season's first drizzle drenches my city
Eliminating all darkness and, engulfed in the heat of passion,
I softly chastise, ‘No more today…focus on your studies…'

And, behind all this, so many words remain implicit
Midnight, once more, heralds the silent past,
the enchanted shore bathed by the tide's spray_
Early moonlight and clouds' hide-and-seek…

And, innumerable seeds of today, dwelling in the past,
Hurl me into the supreme embrace of the red soil…
Where myriads of questions,
Tougher than your impending admission tests, slither
The answers to which linger untold to this day
Even the sky, the soil and the waters haven't
jotted them down anywhere, as yet…
Since Sophocles's times,
the numbness of parting has been filled
by oceanic muse.

Over the phone, your voice sounds really different
And your striking ringtone, which precedes the stillness,
Sounds yet more unusual…

"I wait, with all I have, in expectancy of devastation…"


Translated from Original Bengali by Barnamala Roy