নিজের করা কিছু কবিতার ইংরিজি অনুবাদ। প্রথমে বাংলায় লেখা মূল কবিতাটি, তার পরে তার অনুবাদ। আমার পক্ষে খুবই দূরুহ ব্যাপার, কারণ আমি ইংরিজি সাহিত্যের ছাত্র ছিলাম না, আর আমার প্রাথমিক শিক্ষা হয়েছিলো মাতৃভাষা বাংলায়।
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The scent
(Translated by : Shankar Lahiri)
and comes floating in the air
a dark scent
tossing over a songline, a quiver
the stars that dazzle
dying stars in their pulsating phases
emerging colours mainly pink and black
a splash of vivid green, in brown & red
and some deep blue in the core
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The scent
(Translated by : Shankar Lahiri)
and comes floating in the air
a dark scent
tossing over a songline, a quiver
flowers so defined, fruits so intrinsic
the pink lines on palm, the granules on lips
the pink lines on palm, the granules on lips
the stars that dazzle
dying stars in their pulsating phases
emerging colours mainly pink and black
a splash of vivid green, in brown & red
and some deep blue in the core
the odour riding high
reaching distant planes
reaching distant planes
traced on easel and paintbrush
on the body of fruits
on the body of fruits
in giant black strides
the scent of a demolition.
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Prehistoric
Translation: Shankar Lahiri
how would this morning be you’d told me sometime
in the afternoon I read those poems of Ashbery last night
went into deep sleep woke up quite early -sun yet to rise-
observed John was already up standing away from the centre
on its perimeter winter gradually descended on earth
like a serpent shedding its skin crawling away from light
its dark dungeon as the sharp lance of time pierced the day
with the stark scream of a child its forenoon and afternoon squeezed out
the sap in golden drops that slipped deep into the blue indigo abyss
with a sudden prehistoric turn that heightened my nausea I could see
him a shepherd who lost his way in the ethereal soprano of deep forest
you stood hypnotized a percussionist afraid to touch the flowers
as if you no more read poems your forlorn thoughts the rays
of light came pouring down from deep sky onto the sweaters the
earth adding colour to your lips frozen cold in cryogenic sun
the warmth of your somber chin the reddish cheek-bone reflecting
so much of sky the red earth of Keonjhar the forest hills and the
ore mines of Kharswan as you sat timeless within your circle of
strain waiting to rise one morning for some warmth perhaps you’d
already known all that I wrote to you we’ve been brought into the
same cave by the same geomagnetic pull living million miles apart.
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