Flow
I’m not one to tell the flower-stalk, “Hold on.”
If the sickle-moon sets (out of habit), I’m not one
to wrap it round my sad fingers. I’d rather stand
in the dark breeze by the river bank.
The wind is free, I know. I’d let it go wherever it wants to go.
Why should I hold on to the scenery? I, who knows no perpetuity.
I’ll tell the ceaseless flow that’ll pluck me,
“Come. Touch me on my forehead. Right now, if you please.”
প্রবাহ
আমার স্বভাবে, কোনো বৃন্তকে বলি না তুমি পুষ্প ধরে রাখো :
নির্দিষ্ট নিয়মে যদি চন্দ্রকলা ডুবে যায় – ব্যর্থ প্রণয়ীর মতো তাকে
কেন-বা জড়াতে যাব সতৃষ্ণ আঙুলে, কেন অন্ধকারে নদীর বাতাসে
দাঁড়াব না ঘাটে?
বাতাসেরও মুক্ত স্বাধীনতা আছে, ইচ্ছা হলে দূরে যেতে পারে –
কোথাও স্থিরত্ব নেই, উদ্যান-দৃশ্যের দিকে তবে কেন দু’হাত বাড়াব?
চিরন্তন যে-প্রবাহ ছিন্ন করে নিয়ে যাবে নিঃশব্দে আমাকে,
তাকে বলি, ইচ্ছা হলে কাছে এসে স্পর্শ দাও এখনই ললাটে।
Under a Banyan
Even a Banyan tree lives longer than an emperor.
On desolate afternoons we sit beneath it and loll on its dry leaves.
We – a dog and me.
We ask the birds that fly in from the fields’ silence and the village’s
cacophony, “Did you get to see life’s mechanics? Does happiness fill it up?
Does grief really empty it?”
The breeze in its branches tries to say something. Clearly.
The chatter of birds gets louder on the tree
that stands on the cremation ground
beside the flowing stream.
অশ্বত্থ গাছের নীচে
সামান্য অশ্বত্থগাছ , তারও আয়ু সম্রাটের চেয়ে আরও বেশি!
নির্জন বিকেলে এই অশ্বত্থগাছের নীচে ঝরাপাতা নিয়ে খেলা করি
আমি—ও কুকুর—
মাঠের নৈঃশব্দ্য থেকে গ্রাম থেকে পাখি উড়ে এলে তাকে বলি
দেখে এলে, মানুষের গৃহস্থালি দু’দিনের দুঃখসুখে
পূর্ণ কত দূর?
শাখার ভিতরে হাওয়া বয়ে যায়, জেগে থাকে অন্য কোনো সুর—
পাশে নদী শ্মশানের ওপরে উজ্জ্বল হয় পাখির কাকলি!
Current
Everything is fixed: the river will flow down to the sea
and like the boat which floats languorously in its waters
you too will leave.
Love, I’ve loved you, knowing this.
অতিদূর জলস্রোতে
সব স্থির হয়ে আছে : নদী যাবে সমুদ্রের দিকে,
নদির ওপরে ধীরে অতিদূর জলস্রোতে-ভাসা
নৌকার মতন তুমি নিয়ে যাবে অন্তিম বিদায় –
এ কথা জেনেই ভালো বেসেছি তোমাকে, ভালোবাসা !
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Sambhunath Chattopadhyay (Poet) (1930 – 2018) lived in Manirampur, a sleepy town on the outskirts of Kolkata, India. In his lifetime he worked as a factory worker, hawker, medical representative, deed-writer, guitar teacher, stage performer and a proofreader for a daily newspaper. He chose to remain outside the poetic movements and fraternities of Bengal and never received the limelight of his contemporaries. Neither was he bothered about it. The three poems published here have been taken from his Kabya Samagra (Complete Poems) published in 2016. Some of his poems have also appeared in Circumference, Modern Poetry in Translation, Exchanges, and other journals. He has also been translated into Spanish.
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Kingshuk Sarkar (Translator) (Born 1970) lives in Kolkata, India, and works as a Spanish teacher and translator. He writes in English and Bengali and his poems have been published by several English and Bengali literary magazines in the US and in India. His translations (from Bengali to English) have been published by Modern Poetry in Translation, Circumference, Exchanges, Visions International, Antonym, and Kritya.
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Santa Fe landscape artist Kathleen Frank, raised in Northern California, has a BA Design / San Jose State University, a Masters of Art / Penn State, and has studied woodcarving and printing. In Pennsylvania, she taught printmaking and costume design and co-founded the Printmakers Studio Workshop of Central Pennsylvania. Frank shifted to painting, seeking light and pattern in Pennsylvania farms, California scenery from mountains to sea and now the unique landscapes of the Southwest. Publications include Southwest Art, Western Art Collector, and The Santa Fe Travel Insider and exhibitions include Jane Hamilton Fine Art, Desert Caballeros Western Museum, and the Susquehanna Art Museum. Collections: Desert Caballeros Western Museum, Pattee and Paterno Library at Penn State.
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