The cruelty of mid-Magh night is in the hill,
Or the fleeting pleasure of a certain Hemanta,
At the end, the desired craziness of spring;
The sea brings.
Embracing the sea,
The woman looks for the rhythm of Chaitra once more,
Waves flow inevitably, winter cranes dance above,
How far our final destination!
Revolution-loving, unstoppable breath of warm southern Sea
Desperate to fly krishnachura flower atop the hill,
With that hope, the winter engrossed in death keeps waiting.
Self-inflicting sadness lies deep in the wicked heart
At the confused afternoon,
Still hope persists,
For the sea is mighty,
So, embracing the sea deeply,
The beauty of time descends
In the dusk of consciousness.
Creeping weeds ornamenting the woods
As if making a beautiful sari,
Swaying its edge in the sun.
And after a while, a long queue of white lambs stands
As if they were looking like an enchanting serpent
Widening the hood on the way.
The sense of beauty and ideals of youth are lost,
I can see your starving and piercing heart sick,
O My Love! The beauty of Nature!
The end is dramatic; whoever I meet
Enchants me through her tricks.
Still the vagabond searches the beauty of a damsel.
Yet all the inflicted lovers of the world,
Want, at least, to be death-defying rats,
In silent desire of surviving heart and soul.
Then, all the anger and starvation stay with the sun;
Adorned with a beautiful weed.
Translated by Susmita Roy, She has recently completed her MA from the Department of English, Shahjalal University of Science and Technology, Sylhet