The Great Twilight

The wheel-cart idly rolls laden with golden straw —the late-noon sunshine fades The birds: black, blue and brown—flap their wings in the cellar of the corn field White path dust flies turn into slumber and mingle with the sky As the setting sun leans upon the edge of pigeon-peas field. Now in solitude his blood longs for the taste of sleep The pregnant field looks so good— fire dims and glows in its eye. One day the smell of comely charcoal will bring relief to fire. Whereat waste charter pact commission plan; Why is the uproar of envy jealousy slander exhaustion terror and blood-shed? My heart is as answerless to time as it had shut up Having asked the slender nun the questions when Buddha deceased. Translated by Faizul Latif Chowdhury