The
health-stone is in the ring of finger,
The
cotton-buttons are in the silvery shirt,
The
jug of water is fall of liquid glass,
The
grave is born after the body stops and
Slides
in to the deep deep earth.
There
is no one except man
Who
is so mournful and deaf like a river.
The
abstract art of cloud is in the sky,
The
trees and the little deer are helpless
In
waterfall.
The
dew-turban of durba-grass
Kindless
the evening –lamp.
In
the early morning,
The
family of fishes
Lies
in the deep pond, and
The
cruel and dumb Nature stands
Outside
the room, independent.
The
proud-semen and tenderness of man
Are
on the mountain-top’
Their
foreheads touch its snow-white blanket,
Up
and above, spread a net of air
Or
a ladder along the road of life
To
a reach the emptiness.
The
world keeps everything recorded in---
Architecture,
Book, Fossil
Only
it does not keep the signature, whatsoever,
Of
Rape and Remembrance in the
Living
bodies of Women and River.
Translated by the poet.
Rabiul
Husain
(1943--)