Soumen Chattopadhyay Poems

Alone you've laid your hands in lamentless darkness
The evening has also set in for me
What to give in people's hand?
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স্বীকার ও অস্বীকারের মাঝামাঝি
অন্ধকারে রেখো না আমাকে
এখনও হইনিসবশেষ -
অনেক দহনে আমরা স্ফূরিত ফূল...
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সন্ধ্যার কঠিন স্বর

সকল বাসনা বয়ে যায় অন্ধকারে
শব্দহীন নরকের আর্তনাদে আমি
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পথগুলি রক্তাক্ত হলে
শেষমেষ আকাশের দিকে চাওয়া

দু্'ফোটা জল
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রক্তাক্ত বীজগুলি পড়ে থাকে ইচ্ছার ভেতর
রাখালিয়া কঙ্কাল ধুলোমাখা পায়ে
ছুটে যায়, ছুঁয়ে যায় গর্ভের সুর
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Darkness of endless night breaks my bones
Carrying rocky hills upon heart
Beneath the civilised surface
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Here a cold noon in tired sun
Here in smell of dust, twilight descends
Here my mystic childhood wanders
Here in the soil, in rock my root is buried
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Bloody seeds remained laid in the desire
Grazier skeleton at feet, smeared with dirt
Runs away, touch the tune of womb
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Life! I'm just in your hand fist -then why would you leave? Many faces, umpteen and veiled in mist are waiting.Harshness of person, when pales; ethereal worms of grief eat into skeleton.In the stream of frost windinside the hollo bone, the ceaseless sound of the darkness continues.The night falls in the rough hills -in my astound village, breaths of nocturnal animals become close-I'm alone.Neverthelesscoming back-asking the touch of the blood, flesh and touch.If the feelings of the dying moments of the anguish, coming down of the tune of the past membrane of the earth from ten directions, desired tune of flute from the firmament pierce -overwhelm-take away towards any level of emptiness, so the coming back.

For long time, I'm in dark -want to be dispersed in the body of the beloved women.Stand up -don't go now, I'm watching the quietness of the rotten fruit in the displaced time -has assembled a lot of sorrow-sorrow, remaining in his own corner, has broadened me.In the saddened night, I unite with the soil-the fireof kinship plays, clotted soil of the wild earth is embellished with flowersin my hand.The warmth of the season in soil -golden feelings of the ochre afternoon associated the secluded trees.The despair of five senses is burntat place of worship-each and every day shouts in the sunshine, flowers of spring blossom in my quiet frost skeleton.
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After the roads become blood-drenched
Finally to look towards the sky

Two drops of water
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