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Beyond
Land and Time |
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Townish Forever (Rupôshi
Bānglā Shôngjôjon
11: Cirodin Shôhôrei Thāki) Translated by Golam
Mustafa Always in the town, and nowhere else I stay inside the jute godown Work as office clerk—if somehow Days can just pass Under the sky What the stars in heaven tell each
other Why inertia of life Aches in the moonlight I need no bother. Once I was married—the wife is dead Although honey flower blooms in the mahua tree Fallen once, still Mahua is Mahua
again: the clerk’s house Is just a clerk’s house, alas A hearty episode happens once—only
once, then In the blue mist it dies at last. I mind to gods No pilgrimage till then As you stay content with deities Yet once in a holiday on a tour Went a little distance—Tarokeswar In deep desirelessness—reluctant Boarded a train In noise, in smoke, in dust Why do people long for it. I know not the God—I know only the
hungry god And that on purification for the
daily life I’ll find salvation Then oneday
at Nimtala shore Or in the locality of Kashi Mitra Will lay dead. Till now as I return home late That place flashes in mind: in Tarokeswar Who searched for a god, I spent days
in paths In the exhausted fields of dust In the midst of crowds innumerable Then a face I saw and stopped I caught sight of her near the lion’s
image, It seemed that in the past I had seen
her at the feet of gods
in Ashyria Babylon Saw her in In the house of Issis Day long—at this Tarokeswar
for the whole day I saw her again, (Aha), In the silent afternoon waters of Dhanshiri river These eyes like cane fruits, that
beauty Surrendering to the silent end cloth
of the earth I beheld that And again saw her face, aha!
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