Holding me in its womb and casting its
Gloomy shadow, the bird keeps on flying through the sky
Its enormous wings form the gusty wind into a storm
Keeping the emotional emptiness in its centroid.
Where’s the boundary? Cracking the ground there sprouts
The tender grasses . . . the water of rivers and fountains first
Become a shadow, through its gloomy
Existence, it eventually forms into clouds.
There’s no cloud in my vacuum of blue.
Where have you taken me, uninvited?
Opening your womb as you dropped me
Tearing the layer of wind, the weight shifted
On the umbilical cord . . . in a vast unknown and
Unexpected watered field.
No wings, no tail, only a humanoid creature
Keeping the left out remembrance
And gripping the salty lake water into its imperishable teeth
I feel a sudden bump of rocks and coral on my feet.
That’s it, that might be the ground,
Again a land of human beings.
Tushar Gayen (1967 - ), author of two collections of poetry, became a Canadian immigrant in 2005. Later, he came to New York as a student. Though he got his masters degree in Architectural Science from Ukraine, he is again pursuing graduate study at City College of CUNY.
Translated from the Bengali by Hassanal Abdullah