Of oblivion, of ecstasy

All the shadows, which you and I left along our parallel paths
Out of our sheer failure to break the walls,
Have now resurrected and created a blue constellation.
I can only watch it, down from the ground – alone.

Weren’t we oath-bound to walk the shiny bay routes
Amidst the phosphorus, sinking our feet in the sea,
That roars the joy of marriage with the earth,
Under the pillarless canopy of stars – in ecstasy, in mirth?

Long are you gone in the mourning wild, in solitude,
For God’s rules that hold lovers from leisured gazes,
From ecstasy of the fluttering flagrant desires,
For frowns, wary of sunshine streaming onto the fires.

Thereon we appeared haughty, crossed the unfathomable sea
Journeyed through the hills of flashing amnesia
Upon the love, that once smiled at us and died, turned not our eyes
In the vicissitudes of solitary whimpers and flickering sighs.

In gloom unacquainted, we wrote an elegy unfamiliar to lovers
Disported ourselves in parting sighs, traversing miles of desert
We turned old, sick with memories, like the greying moon,
Wandering though the troubled dim hopes, waiting to die soon.

O dear, let’s catch the star before the dawn falls
Let’s give voice to our fledgling halted whispers,
Let rise from the trampled desires a passionate glee
Let my lyrics of whimper sing the most beautiful hymn for thee.

[Kathmandu, July 24, 2016]

মাঝি বাইয়া যাও রে

মাঝি বাইয়া যাও রে,
অকুল দরিয়ার মাঝে, আমার ভাঙা নাও
মাঝি বাইয়া যাও রে।
ভেন্না কাষ্ঠের নৌকাখানি, মাঝখানে তার ছইয়া
নায়ের আগার থাইকা পাছায় গেলে, গলুই পড়ে খইয়া
মাঝি বাইয়া যাও রে।
দীক্ষা শিক্ষা না লইয়া, আগে করছো বিয়া
বিনা খতে গোলাম হইছাও, গাইতের কড়ি দিয়া
মাঝি বাইয়া যাও রে।
বিদেশে বিপাকে যারও, বেটা মারা যায়
পাড়া-পড়শি জানার আগে, জানে তার মায়
মাঝি বাইয়া যাও রে।

Elegy to togetherness

Let us, my dear, part, in this hour of tumult,
And curse the hearts of ours – sore and scornful
That they wed in improbability.
Let them vow to walk parallel paths with dread
Lest they unite to mourn the love, its vanity.

Little would our gruelling labours wear shadow,
For they shy the glimpse of our embrace,
On our secret howls let them rather rest
And bathe in the unfathomable void of oblivion
Oh dear, what mesmeric, incredible is this test!

Let our wasted breaths rest in the tiding fragrance
Of your cascading locks, as twilight flutters its dark wings,
Brimmed and wrinkled with our mutual lust
Our breaths be the testimony how well we fared on the earth
How in improbability we placed our trust.

I bring you this rhyme, as the dawn bell tolls
This ancient soul of mine, weary of your love, O dear,
Would no more seek refuge in your sight.
Shut your door in its face and bid it adieu
Let this arcane grief be its companion, its might.

So, what mortal bosoms still hold the haughty whimpers?
My abyss desires that blossom a rose deep down my dark,
And my void trances that my casket drape,
Now freed from the bodily manacles, plead you, “Forsake not”
As dust settles on my grave and the mourners’ footsteps fade.

[Dhaka, February 14, 2016]

Ode to a lonely harp

Carved out of this sordid, withered fits of passion,
A doleful tune let me play, let me bare my bosom,
How I bent my paths to hers, sought living our secret illusions
But dared not tread the path further
As two souls dreaded to be one with each other.

Remember the wondrous moment of our first meeting
When we – drowned in the dreams to minister to ourselves
In sorrows and pleasures – shuddered in sheer ecstasy
As our thoughts each other embraced
Beguiled to soothe the souls long distressed?

She, blushing incessantly, lifted her rose eyes
And sent me the deepest stare; I sank in the wildest
Of the bliss and lay, as if in a trance – rapt and numb.
But the gloom of straining against the wind
Soon took away all the giggles the two hearts can ever find.

By the rivulets vanished the tender contour of my beloved
A confused sigh bade adieu: she must lean against a strong man,
Not be enchained by the frail arms of mine. But my harp,
Overcome by the fear of loneliness, whimpers
A sorrow – too heavy to bear, and will be howling at all hours.

Dhaka, January 20, 2016

We’ll not meet in rain

Tonight this ancient heart of mine again realises
We’ll never meet – two of us – in rain
And rejoice the drunkenness of our love
In the hours of tumult, in the solitary plain.

Vagabond breeze strolls past my window and stops.
Does it hear my ragged and forlorn whimpers
Despite the rock wall I built to shield my dreams
Perchance any infinite eye embraces it and desires?

O vagrant heart of mine, mourn not at twilight,
Your inviolate sorrows not improvise
‘Cause had we met in rain, all might end in fire
Swallowing everything, not to let us again rise.

Tonight, yet, my wandering fantasies walk on dying dew
In the widening hollow of numb desires, as I fall
In solitude, drifting in darkness of the empty station
Wondering: is life larger than the soul?

[Dhaka, January 12, 2016]