We Both Are Here, Again

We both are here, again, in memory of sound bird’s river of light. Thought we both are Egyptian mummies. Slumbering from morn to evening. Sporting ourselves as a morning breeze, swaying clusters of green leaves, or becoming a twig of emblica, sal, or even turning into silver hued falling rain, pretending to be all of the above— just you and me. We died so many times over and over again in many cities, bazaars, waterways, amidst blood, fire, blurred decadence, in the darkness of inauspicious moment. Even then, we pined for light, courage, and life. We cherished these in our heart and be history-bound. Our nest, we built somewhere. It shattered into pieces and we cried. On froth of the ocean, we giggled. We loved our life. Light—more light passed away! If men depart today, humankind will remain here, curdled dewdrops will become in the parlance of history, the capital of man and woman. [Original: Dhoni Pakhir Alo Nodi (Bengali), Translator: A.H. Jaffor Ullah] ......... This poem appears in the ungrouped (Ogronthito Kobita) poem section