Amidst
the rustle of late autumn’s
gray
falling leaves
some
one, it seemed, called out
from
empty space, “Come here, O come here
to me.”
All
around lonely hazy emptiness quivered
a
horse neighed sadly
and,
in the distance, with a gust
of
breathless wind
restless
time rushed on.
There
was no one on the road,
no
road was there,
only
fossil desolation stretched to the horizon.
He
thought ; where would he go to
in
this empty space ?
At
whose doorstep would he take his stand ?
And
yet some one went on calling
after
him. ”come, come here, O come here
to go.”
But
it was he who was lonely,
loneliness
reigned inside of him.
Alas,
he called out only to himself
by different names.
Translated by Kabir Chowdhury
Afzal
Chowdhury
(1942- ?)
Poet.
Poetry : Kalyan Brato (1969).