Brooklyn at Dusk

Brooklyn at Dusk

It was mid-November, here at Brooklyn’s edge,
Where land and ocean meet—and city folk,
Returning home, can see the sky again.
And so I’d paused awhile, beside the door,
As I had done so many times before.

The day was ending and the air was chill.
The clouds had covered up the sky in grays.
I watched them moving, slowly, west to east.
The trees had very little left of leaves.
They stood outlined, with all their limbs revealed.

And as I watched, the light of day was drained
And in its place there came the gloom of eve.
I felt a sadness, yet I sensed a calm,
As all the hustle of the city ebbed—
And one by one I saw the stars again.

2018 November 20th, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York
  

At the Start of the Spring

This was written after seeing a picture of Matt and Julie Posner, standing together, by a cherry blossom tree at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens.

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10212660965296741 

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At the Start of the Spring

When the schools were not open,
at the start of the spring,
we stood by the blossoms
and our fancies took wing.

How precious, these moments,
like blooms in their lives,
when the flowers have faded,
for husbands and wives.

So also for others,
who stood by the trees
or looked at the heavens
or gazed at the seas.

We arrive and we travel
and we exit in time.
And yet there are moments
that we treasure in rhyme.

For some, it is verses;
for others, it's prose.
Yet others remember
the scent of the rose.

There are feelings for which
we may find the right words
and others that shimmer
like the singing of birds.

And then there are things
that we sense, but that speech
cannot utter—the things
that our words cannot reach.

So we stand in the open
at the start of a season.
And a picture is taken
for which there's a reason.

And whether we knew it
or not, in a year
or in forty, we'll see it
with a smile and a tear.

2017 April 17th, Mon.
Brooklyn, New York
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https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10212660965296741  
   

Congress

 
Congress

A congress that is sexual can be wonderful indeed.
So those who represent us might consider “having sex”,
as the newer generation so dismally now says it,
to receive that inspiration that no lobbyist can give.
And if by chance caresses lead to feelings, surely then
our Congress will be better, though it’s mostly made of men.

And if there is an afterglow, in which unreason flees
as mind and head connect again, there might perhaps be hope
that all of the conventions and the pressures fall away,
and the Capitol, deserted as the Congress is at play,
might function as intended by the best in slavers yet,
when the Congressmen, returning, find they’re reading every line
and voting with a conscience—and a vision cleared by sex.

2016 August 23rd, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York

  

Xondhe Elo—সন্ধ্যে এল—The Sunset

A recording, two Roman transcriptions and a "free translation" into English are available at:
http://suniljanah.org/ajanah/poems/arjun/indic/xondhe-elo--tabular.html .

The recording is in rather childish Bengali. The "free translation" is still fairly literal.
 
A word-for-word literal translation, following Bengali syntax, is also provided there, in the lower part of the tables.  That is meant for language learners and for those interested in the differences in syntax between languages.

Note: The recording at the link above might not work on some mobile phone applications and on some networks.  Also, the columns in the tables are best seen together.  This needs a wide-screen view.  Rotating a "smartphone" to get a wider view might perhaps provide such a view.  But the text characters might still be too small to read, without zooming.

The Bengali text is here in this blog post, directly below the image.  There are more images (of sunsets at or near Kolkata) at the bottom of this post, along with viewing instructions.

Sunset in Besonhurst, Brooklyn, looking west along Bath Ave from 19th Ave
Arjun Janah, 2016 June 5th Sun.
http://suniljanah.org/ajanah/poems/arjun/indic/xondhe-elo--tabular.html

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সন্ধ্যে এল
  
সারা দিন গেল, কাজ হল না,
সন্ধ্যে এল শেষে৷
পড়ল মনে, ছোটবেলার
সন্ধ্যে, বাংলাদেশে৷

"বাংলাদেশ" ত নাম ছিল না
রাষ্ট্রের, যেমন এখন৷
মেদিনীপুর আর মালদা ছিল
বাংলাদেশে তখন৷
  
কোলকাতায়, ভোরবেলাতে,
সূর্য ওঠা দেখে,
জাগত প্রাণে সুখের গীতি,
ভোরের হাওয়া চেখে৷
    
সন্ধ্যেবেলায়, সূর্য যখন
ডুবছে, কোমল সুরে,
দুখের বিলাপ, কোথার থেকে
আসত তখন ঘুরে৷
  
দেশ ছাড়লাম, পড়াশোনা
থামল অবশেষে৷
কাজের দিনো চুকল এবার,
এই যে দূরের দেশে৷
  
খাটনিতে ত ব্যস্ত ছিলাম,
দুপুর, বিকেল বেলায়৷
সন্ধ্যে এল, পড়লাম এবার
বেকার-বৃদ্ধ ঠেলায়৷
  
বুঝবে কি গো, মগজ আমার,
কোথার থেকে, ওই
সন্ধ্যেবেলার দুখের গীতি,
যতই পড় বই?
  
শোনো এবার৷ বলছি আমি,
সন্ধ্যেবেলার গান,
ভোরের ভজন, জীবন স্রোতে,
জোয়ারভাটার টান৷

অতীত থেকে আসছে ভেসে,
যাচ্ছে আবার দূরে৷
ভবিষ্যতের খবর নিয়ে,
আসছে আবার ঘুরে৷
  
দিন ফুরল, কাজ হল না৷
সন্ধ্যে এল শেষে৷
পড়ল মনে, লাল আকাশের
কাব্য, বাংলাদেশে৷
  
শনিবার, ১৮ই জুন, ২০১৬ খ্রি
ব্রুক্লিন, নিউয়র্ক

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Evening Chat, by Ujjal Dey
(country boats moored on the Hooghly, with the new Howrah Bridge in the background)
http://sunrise.maplogs.com/chak_garia_santoshpur_kolkata_west_bengal_india.3307.html

Shades of Romance, by Aniket Sengupta
(lovers by the water at sunset, Kolkata)
http://amee.biz/blog/

Two Men on a Boat,  at Sunset
(on the Hooghly river, near Kolkata)
http://sunrise.maplogs.com/kolkata_west_bengal_india.2437.html

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To see the four images (in this Daily Poet blog post above) in a larger size and clearer form, click on any one image. Then either use the arrow keys on your keyboard to view each image in turn, or else click on the thumbnail images at the bottom of the screen. Click on the white X near the top right of the black background in that "gallery view" to return to this blog post.
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An audio recording, two Roman transcriptions, two translations into English and one larger image are available at:
http://suniljanah.org/ajanah/poems/arjun/indic/xondhe-elo--tabular.html .
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Morning and Evening

  
Morning and Evening
 

Sunrise

  














There’s early morning, beautiful,
With little birds that sing.
The light of dawn is that of hope,
As dreams can then take wing.

For what the night had conjured, then,
To realize, we try,
As long as we have bodies, minds,
On which we can rely.

There’s morning, noon and afternoon.
And then comes evening – slowly,
Nearer to the planet’s poles –
And swiftly in the tropics.

But sunset and the dusk are times,
Whatever be the clime,
When life, diurnal, starts to slow,
Approaching sleeping time.

A wave, that’s crested, then subsides
And hollows down to trough.
So also, sanguine humors now
Decline – we’ve strived enough.

So evening is a time to pause,
Reflect – and feelings, sad,
Are now expressed, as these replace
The brighter ones we’ve had.

As the sun’s decline, departure serves
To mime a mortal’s end,
At sunset, birds and humans seek
To turn – and homewards wend.

And species, social, then expect
To meet with friends and kin,
To share what each has gathered. Yet,
For many, no one' s in.

To empty rooms, we now return
To meet with loneliness.
And that, perforce, we try to do –
And so we all “progress”.

But even this, to many, is
By circumstance, denied.
They sleep by day and work at night,
As shifts are multiplied.

And some there are, who choose this life
For reasons of their own.
The light bulb makes it possible.
Accustomed, we have grown.

But light bulbs surely aren’t sun,
Which we, diurnal, need.
Illnesses, of body, mind,
Our modern habits feed.

Like birds, we humans are attuned
To beats of night and day,
But now we move to other drums –
From ancient rhythms stray.

And when we do, we pay a price
That cannot be avoided.
The legacy of eons past
May not be lightly voided.

Our daily rhythms, by the sun,
Our monthly, by the moon,
Through all our wanderings, were set.
They will not leave us soon.

And if we try to fight with these,
In webs, we feel enmeshed.
But if, with these, we can comply,
We feel alive, refreshed.

There’s sunrise, bright and beautiful,
That bids us to arise.
But then there’s sunset – solemn, sad,
That warns us to be wise.

Sunset in Goa, India

So yang and yin do work in us,
As we are cycles, all.
With us, as with the yearly round –
There’s spring – and there is fall.

2014 January 1st, Wed, 3:20 am
Skyway Dhaba, Bensonhurst, Brooklyn
(stanzas 8—12 & final added Wed. afternoon)

Note:  Click on the images to see them in their original sizes.  Click on the background to return.