If
I were an idle April noon
I
would go and watch in your eyes
Some
blades of grass.
I
would go and dance with your rhythmic feet,
Weeping
tears of blood,
and
suddenly an April fire
would
burst into flames.
If
I were a copper-coloured telegraph wire
I
would relay to you all my failures,
any
unfinished songs,
grief-stricken
flowers.
Oh,
if I were only little joy
in
this month of impossible desires !
Translated by Kabir Choudhury
Zahidul Huq (1949-) Poet. Poetry: Pocket Bharti Megh (1981), Tomar Homer (1984), Nil Dutabas (1984), Ei Traintir Nam Garcia Lorka (1996), A Utsabe Ami Eka (1997).