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Solitary Dependence

Very little, can hurt me these days,
my grief’s address lives on forever.

My solitary dependence awakens at midnight,
I feel the cold under my feet;
my eyes, wide open, sees the endless expanse
encompassing a courtyard-space of existence,
just your shadow.

Who are you? Who are you?

Sometimes you feel familiar,
at other times, unfamiliar.
Sometimes the play-of-light lives in you,
other times, only pre-dawn’s darkness.
Sometimes you seem so simple,
at other times, full of doubt.
Sometimes you seem to be in this world,
other times, in some other.
Sometimes you are child-like,
at other times, just endlessly silent.

Who are you? Who are you? 

The night trembles, the heart flutters
like leaves whispering to the breeze.

The waves stir on the placid river,
the fish are motionless,
and the stars weave dreams.

Who are you? Who are you?

Engulfed in a soundless world,
I sit alone
as the ruddy-night bleeds away.

Another night arrives,
moves, moves on, turns back to whisper
its suicidal urges.

Who are you? Who are you?

Very little, can hurt me these days,
my grief’s address lives on forever


Little by little, everything is crumbling --
bricks, stones, my heart too is crumbling.

Even though there has been
no slack in applying enough plaster -- red, blue, green
yellow -- whatever colour we get, we mix.
They do not always mix, yet we keep trying.

I want to keep breathing and lie on the river’s breast,
live by seeing the sky’s blue,
keep alive by smelling the flower’s scent.

Nevertheless, the confusion carries on.
The plaster peels off --
bricks, stones, and my heart.

This is the way I walk, talk,
live, and sometimes even die.
Nobody knows that, nobody understands.

Does the river understand, or the sky?
Does the sky understand?
Does the flower understand?

Do they really understand everything?
Or just console themselves in confusion?

Life and life’s realisation -- what’s the relation?
Living and stagnation -- what’s the relation?
Human beings and monkeys -- what’s the relation?

Liking and loving -- what’s the relation?

Little by little, everything is crumbling --
bricks, stones, my heart too is crumbling.

Self-willed exile

I longed to sit side by side till eternity
You and I were traveling together  
With luggage of dream
Wandering along I felt like touching your hand
You said “you will not touch me”
With mesmerized eyes
I glanced at your exquisite lips
You said “turn aside your look”

These so many days rolled into a year or more
Poetry has remained banished from me
Or I have led an ostracized life from poetry

I am taking food, walking along and talking to you
Tell me correctly am I really in exile
Or totally steeped in the realm of poesy-

May be I have scarcely written a line of verse
All these days
But I dwell in the abode of poesy
My address is still the same old
- Stand of unfathomable ocean of poetry
Where windy doors remain open
Where joy of bliss trickles down from green leaves
Where water birds descend from clouds
I live there
And dwell in depths deeper than dream
Where it is possible to be in communion with soul
I live there
I shall remain there till eternity
Let that life be a life of exile from poetry.


Translated by: A Z M Haider


I am a demented and distracted child of time
Spontaneity and transparency do not
mark fruition of dream
Dream deception has spread out
Its incomparable hand
Untiring harmony of suicide

Ceaseless rapture of artistic endeavour
Infernal somersault characterize
Every pore of soul
Minimum soundness of health is plagued
Gradually fountain longed for is losing

Translated by: A Z M Haider


I hear the jingle of chains
and lose myself continuously in the never ending clinking
Intense pungency of old tobacco makes me dizzy
Again euphoria touches my soul.

I hear the jingle of chains
and feel invisible through my heart and soul
I humble myself like many
I crave to rise above the darkness
But again lose myself into a deep unconsciousness
I hear the jingle of chains
I look for them amidst the clattering
Brace myself to face them
they hit me with larger vigour
feel the breath through the backbone

I hear the jingle of chains
I see myself reflected in the faces
covered with bloody coffin
In the pebbles hidden by earth
and  I tremble with fear
And collapse while retreating
words approaches me as a shackle
And fasten my two hands
clattering of the chain goes and goes into a gradual wane.

 I hear the jingle of chains!!


Translated by: M S A Sarwar

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