The Rain

Such rain is good - body, porch, floor all soaks in water away. Urban birds, on the opposite side of the wall, take shelter—in every shed. White pigeons, magpies, sparrows, and flocks of domestic weavers— come to find grains, suddenly get wet. Then they're looking for you and me. We may not be together for long. Yet, such rain falls- on an open-window, unwanted; A river enters the room and sits in it, saying: Loving the ice, why do you melt yourself? Am I really melting, room floating water! Changed state? Clouds in steam? Do I drop myself? This way— . . Translated from original Bengali into English by: Poet Hamid Rayhan