Nature’s Wiles

Nature’s Wiles

It’s Friday the thirteenth—a lucky day,
It seems, for April’s half is nearly done
And Winter, which had overstayed its time,
Has journeyed North awhile. And so we’re blessed
With sunshine and with warmth—so long delayed
That we are wary, as a lovelorn lad
Might be, when winked at slowly by a wench,
Not knowing what this means—and fearing much.

And yet, we all have been in Summer’s bed,
Except for those who haven’t met her yet,
And so we try to ease our winter frowns,
Reluctant still to smile at Nature’s wiles.

The birds are chirping, but in muted tones
And men and women walk, with coats in hand.

2018 April 13th Fri
Brooklyn, New York
 

What Chance

What Chance

You were waiting by a doorway
for the bus—and smiled at me.
And I at first ignored this—
until you came to mind.
I only then responded—
but your eyes were smiling still.

   

And later, you had dropped by,
for half an hour or so.
Our hands had touched, so briefly—
with a current passing through.

For a quarter of a century,
I have seen you come and go—
so near and yet so distant—
and always in my mind.

There’s a bond that long has linked us,
in the strangest kind of way.
It has kept us always tethered,
but always still apart.

I have seen your bloom, your fading.
I have memorized your face—
the curving of your eyelids—
your planes and shapes and shades.
 
There were dreams I had of holding
your form within my arms—
and I always then dismissed these
as idle thoughts that passed.
I even dreamt we had kissed, once,
but I smiled—and said, “What chance!”
 
2017 January 27th, Fri.
Brooklyn, New York
   

Cin Dexe Bhro`mon'-চীন দেশে ভ্রমণ-Visit to China

Note: The phonetic transcription and the translation to English have not yet been done.
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চীন দেশে ভ্রমণ

অনেক বছর বাদে,
চললাম ছুটির দিনে,
হাওয়ার জাহাজে চড়ে,
এই পৃথিবী ঘুরে,
অন্য এক দেশে৷

তাজ্জব হয়ে, দেখলাম সেখানে
চলছে মানুষ বেগে—
কেউ বা হেঁটে, কেউ বা সাইকেল-স্কুটারে,
কেউ বা গাড়ীর ভেতরে৷

জানিনা সে দেশের ভাষা,
জানিনা সে দেশের লেখা৷
শুনলাম অনেক কিছু,
বুঝলাম লবডঙ্কা,
কয়েক ছুটির দিনে,
প্রাচীন-আধুনিক চীনে৷

বেইজিং শহরে আজ
নেই আর মহারাজ,
নেই আর সুন য়াত সেন,
নেই আর কুয়োমিনতাং,
নেই আর মাও জেদং৷

গেছে একে একে সবাই৷
রয়েছে পুরোনো প্রাসাদ৷
রয়েছে মূর্তি, ছবি৷
রয়েছে কি আর কবি?

এসেছিল লাল প্রভাত৷
এসেছিল কৃষকের আশা৷
এসেছিল মজদুরের দিন৷
এল তার সন্ধ্যে, ভাই৷
খুঁজেও পাবে না তাই৷

এসেছে লেনদেন৷
এসেছে বেচাকেনা৷
এসেছে, বহুতলা বাড়ি৷
এসেছে চকমকে গাড়ী৷

এসেছে হাইওয়ের গতি৷
গেছে গো সেকালের ধীর৷
রয়েছে এখনো হাসি৷
সেটাও যাবে গো, হায়৷

মনে মনে হলাম হতাশ৷
বয়েছে ব্যবসায়ি বাতাস৷
যদিও পূর্বের দেশ,
পরেছে পশ্চিমে বেশ৷

ডাকাত হয়েছে ধনী৷
লুটেছে শ্রমিকের মণি৷
বোঝাব কাকে এই কীর্তি?
হব তো দুদিনেই ফিরতি৷

রবিবার, ২৪ এ জুলাই, ২০১৬ খ্রি
ব্রুক্লিন, নিউয়র্ক
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Cīna Dēśē Bhramaṇa

Anēka bachara bādē,
calalāma chuṭira dinē,
hā'ōẏāra jāhājē caṛē,
ē'i pr̥thibī ghurē,
an'ya ēka dēśē.

Tājjaba haẏē, dēkhalāma sēkhānē
calachē mānuṣa bēgē—
kē'u bā hēm̐ṭē, kē'u bā sā'ikēla-skuṭārē,
kē'u bā gāṛīra bhētarē.

Jāninā sē dēśēra bhāṣā,
jāninā sē dēśēra lēkhā.
Śunalāma anēka kichu,
bujhalāma labaḍaṅkā,
kaẏēka chuṭira dinē,
prācīna-ādhunika cīnē.

Bē'ijiṁ śaharē āja
nē'i āra mahārāja,
nē'i āra suna ẏāta sēna,
nē'i āra kuẏōminatāṁ,
nē'i āra mā'ō jēdaṁ.

Gēchē ēkē ēkē sabā'i.
Raẏēchē purōnō prāsāda.
Raẏēchē mūrti, chabi.
Raẏēchē ki āra kabi?

Ēsēchila lāla prabhāta.
Ēsēchila kr̥ṣakēra āśā.
Ēsēchila majadurēra dina.
Ēla tāra sandhyē, bhā'i.
Khum̐jē'ō pābē nā tā'i.

Ēsēchē lēnadēna.
Ēsēchē bēcākēnā.
Ēsēchē, bahutalā bāṛi.
Ēsēchē cakamakē gāṛī.

Ēsēchē hā'i'ōẏēra gati.
Gēchē gō sēkālēra dhīra.
Raẏēchē ēkhanō hāsi.
Sēṭā'ō yābē gō, hāẏa.

Manē manē halāma hatāśa.
Baẏēchē byabasāẏi bātāsa.
Yadi'ō pūrbēra dēśa,
parēchē paścimē bēśa.

Ḍākāta haẏēchē dhanī.
Luṭēchē śramikēra maṇi.
Bōjhāba kākē ē'i kīrti?
Haba tō dudinē'i phirati.

Rabibāra, 24 ē Julā'i, 2016 Khri
Bruklina, Ni'uẏarka
 

Exile-IV

Exile-IV

We can long for what’s no longer.
We can pine for loves we’ve lost.
We can wish we were with kinsfolk
Or friends we had when young.

We can love our native country.
We can miss its speech and song.
We can yearn, when we’re in exile,
To be back where we belong.

And then, upon returning,
And seeing a nephew smile,
Within our native city,
We might rejoice a while.

But then there are the conflicts
That even roil one’s clan.
And we learn of crime, corruption—
So we’re back where we began.

Yet we see that all is changing—
That nothing’s ever still.
For some, the change is better,
For more, it’s more of ill.

The fantasy that distance
And time created goes.
We’re in our native country
And it still is full of woes.

For those like us who left it
And never could return,
Such thoughts arise in dreaming
And then we wake and turn.

2016 February 5th, Fri, 6:51 am
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
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Related posts:
   

• Exile-III  (http://thedailypoet.blogspot.com/2016/01/exile-iii.html)
• Exile-II  (http://thedailypoet.blogspot.com/2014/04/exile-ii.html)
• Exile  (http://thedailypoet.blogspot.com/2013/03/exile.html)

      

The Mirror

 
The Mirror
 
The little girl who skipped in pigtails turned
to a maiden, blooming then in beauty, grace –
and then to a woman, married – soon with child –
and so to a mother – with a mother’s work
as well as that which earned the needed wage…
She worked her shifts, as women long have done…
 
Her face and body changed, as did her mind –
as worries grew – and satisfactions small
were countered by frustrations – small and large...
And gazing in the mirror now, she sees
that little girl, that maiden, then the wife –
the mother too – and wonders what comes next.
  
2014 October 25th, Sat.
2nd floor, McDonald’s restaurant
86th Street & 20th Avenue
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York