In The New Year

The smell of rice hurts my nostril. As soon as I get back my conscience, I notice all the doors closed. When I dare open them all, the capitalists frown at me addressing as blind. Blood within by breast gets silently injured. My eyes are full of dreams for rice. When I demand to have my dreams fulfilled, the capitalists shout saying, 'Wild ! Wild !' When I pick up scythe at hand to harvest paddy, they cry, 'it's the most vile work!' Yet the sun rises in the sky in the new year. A bird of eternal peace calls to me in my dreams. Getting up from bed, I now on the way to look for that blue bird. I don't know where and how far she is. I wish I were all day long a body-gourd of her . Had I surrendered my body to her in a solitary place ! [Translated by Sayeed Abubakar]