Santanu's Poem

তোমাদের কবি সভা মাঝে জানি মোর হবে নাকো স্থান। তবু আমি গেয়ে যেতে চাই তোমাদের জয়গান। নিদ্রাবিহীন নিশিরাতে ক্লান্ত, শ্রান্ত শুকতারা। হয়তো তোমার আঙিনায় প্রভাত আলোতে হয় হারা। কোন সে স্বপন অভিসারী, শিরীষ, হিজলে ঝরে যায়। আবছা কুয়াশা আবরণে হিমেল পরশে প্রাণ পায়। পৃথিবীর লাল কাঁচা পথে ঘাড় গুঁজে চলি বুকে হেঁটে। বন্দুক নিশানায় খোঁজে, গিরগিটি পড়ে চাপা বুটে। কী জীবন চেয়েছিলে হায় মানব। সভ্যতার শেষ দিগন্তের পারে, কী তোমার ভালো লেগেছিল, সে ব্যর্থ প্রশ্ন।

I feel your presence everywhere I searched you here and there, far and near, I found you nowhere.   However darker are my nights I hope, my days would be as bright I felt your love is infinite.   When the songs of mild winter rouse all flowers, When at the day end, the cowboys go back home, in delight When the western sun light, somber falls from far, on my attic.    

  The invitation of night was open on my bed, near head. Until the remnant of wavy motion of the airborne music had disappeared, I could not understand where from a gush of wind came, and gave away my mind, a swing.   I looked up to the sky and noticed, a cluster of blue stars, seemed to be laughing, reason less. I heard the song of my heart into the rustle of forest, though, I failed to follow that note.  

Make a dome of love, after my death, somewhere in this world. I won’t mind if there is no river beside. Keep an empty throne for me. Write my name with water in your temple, as if, it does not keep any mark on civilization.   If you are feeling love, you need not to show off, my angel.  As love is not classified advertisement that needs publicity.   Decorate yourself with the chain of white flowers like the tribal women. Walk along the village way, in the rhythm of their drum beats. Dance in the camp fire, with an unknown folk song and smile easily, as you are one of them. You will find me there in to that innocent humanity.    Listen the music of their anklets,  Be barefoot like the deer which  is restless to be lost in to the green  of the forest. I’ll be there playing my  flute in the  disguise of a cow boy, to  welcome you, my love. Don’t be sceptic  about the wild. They...

I had made your temple into my mind. I kept the door open to let easy wind. In the morning, birds sang with dew fall. At late night, I harked  your clear call. Like a little boy, I cried and found solace with my  tear fall. There was no other  worshipper but I, There was no stain in the cloudless sky. I swept the temple way, wiped temple floor. I thought your cygnet would appear at the door. I collected flowers, burnt  scented sticks and picked up  grass, a score.