TRANSLATED FROM THE BENGALI BY OWSHNIK GHOSH
I was in search of it.
It’s smell brought me here….
The stairs are coiled like a snake.
The lamp had not been lit at the shade
this mediocre darkness burns my eyes
the echo thunders
who is there? Please respond
I’m a dumb slave. Hide my torn tongue
and sit in front of my own Mummy, Pharaoh!
Jesus and me
I control myself from not committing suicide
I don’t pick up a pin or the beloved axe
yet my head drops towards the silence,
at the waterfall…
I will not commit suicide
have not seen a film since ages
my sickness hidden behind the screen
what if it erodes with the bang of breadth
a river centric civilization
develops habitats in the structure of it’s relations.
In the dark I feel as if
all the nights are of Bethlehem
I alone write the story of the crucifixion.
Few words about the missing
Some people have gone missing while traveling in the hills
some girls have drowned while swimming in the sea
like every year at the Kenduli fair
some have lost their shoes,
some their friends
Our evenings in the city have been stolen too
seduced by the cool coffee shops and
luckily there are no known faces in the night bus
luckily no one here wants to know my surname
officer, please tell me,
for how many days can one survive
without an identity proof?
I am like one of them
who couldn’t memorize their Andhar number…
Also, read Preparatory & Other Poems by Robert Serban, translated from the Romanian by Lidia Vianu and Anne Stewart, and published in The Antonym: