Translated from Bangla by Fahmida Sharmin
One day I’ll write as I wish
I’ll publish one more book
One more
The book will have
The poem
After reading which
Lovers like me
Will know
If they should become angry, destroy everything
Or start laughing
If they should stay on the Earth
Or they should want to leave on a boat at dusk
If they should remain sad for this short life
Or be in a happy mood like Chameli
Or they should become indifferent like an electric pole
They may not love others, but shouldn’t they love children?
Even if they stood still
Wishing not to see anything
Wouldn’t they have to go along
To see that
The river keeps flowing?
Should they write poems? Or they shouldn’t?
This poem would be there
In that book.
————————
As I saw you
I have come to play as I saw you
Your age is about six or eight
I have just turned nine today
But I know fewer games than you
No one was there to look after me
Or my sister accompanied me more
Whatever, I couldn’t learn to play
I look at the vulture and see
I look at the ant and see
I see the sky has broken like glass
And a piece of that has stuck on my head
Then they put a bandage
Kanika sang enthusiastically that day
Nobody told me my ears were open
I have a friend, I feel pleasure too
Still, I feel sad that Abdul is there
But tell me if my age is nine
Why do I think trees are red,
Everyone wants to have roses however
Thorns hurt everyone’s hands, it bleeds?
Everyone walks on the road
Does anyone sit idle at home,
If so, will they contact serious illness?
Fish swim and dance
The fishing rod stays untouched with the bait on it
I think and play, yet play and think
Won’t you play with me?
—————————-
On the other way
I will go on the other way
Giving me a little stone in Karachi
A boy said, hide it, I will search for it-
Someone may have told you this in Ranchi
Giving you a piece of cloth, or glass, and without understanding
I smiled like a clever person, in less than a minute
I said I’ve hidden it, you can start searching
Did he tell you in Bangla or Hindi?
I don’t remember the skin tone of the Karachi boy, maybe white or black
He pretended to look for sometime
(I understood that later)
He said you’ve hidden it in your mouth, open your mouth
As I opened my mouth, he threw a handful of sand
What did he throw on you, salt or mud?
Aren’t I saying both of our experiences
Are not the same?
Why do you want to take me with you?
Going on a different way alone
Will that time come,
I will try to find you all on my own?
—————
Fahmida Sharmin, who graduated from the Department of English, Shahjalal University of Science and Technology, Sylhet, is an enthusiast of literary translation.
Illustration : Najib Tareque
