Poetry in Translation
This Rare Afternoon
This rare afternoon in the valley of autumn.
Behind the trembling curtain of pine needles
sad sunís gold. On chestnut branches
scant whorls of mauve-tinted flowers.
Drowsy peace falling,
pine needles falling,
touch of elderly sadness in the valley of autumn.
No dark monsoon flashes of passionís anguish
are in this autumnís serene and elderly sadness.
Afternoon of falling needles. Look, there falls
a dew drop and glides down the curved belly of time.
Translated from the Bengali by Evelyn Panofsky
The day you let your hand touch
with inner eyesmy shells will fall off
till the splendored point illumines
with its touch.
And muddle again.
Things crowded into a sceneís corner,
almost rising. Speaking. Walking.
Something is gnawing to know
the imminent Lightpleading.
Life reaches for you. Gather them
while you are at a tender age. Their Splendor
is quietly hidden inside you.
Translated from the Hebrew by Stanley H. Barkan and Jessica Cohen