Thousands of years I trod – as I tread this walk of life –
From the depths kissing the Lankan crest –
Far, further ahead into the darkning Malayan depths.
I have made the distance.
My feet has smelt the greying sands of Asoka's land, Bimbisaar.
I have walked through the darkness of Vidarbha.
A tired soul am I –
All around me the froth, so lively, brims over.
But, for a moment’s breath you bequeathed unto me –
Suddenly, Sharon.
Her hair – lost, like lost day’s darkest nights,
Her face sculptured timeless – flawless, granite.
For puzzled Ulysses and his rudderless ship,
The tempt of the sirens, in his eyes –
Unto the green shores – deep inside the cinnamon island…
My eyes have touched her, thus – through the darkness.
And she has asked, “Where have you been so long?”
All, as she looked up through the naked forest of her dark eyelashes,
It was you, Sharon.
In the sound of dews – the night ascends.
The birds of prey shed feathers drenched of sunshine.
As The Light of world dims away –
The storybook comes alive.
Then unto the fireflies, nights glitter anxious.
The birds return home –
The rivers too –
Encore Life!
Darkness remains –
The face –
Sharon.
*****
(A relatively literal translation: My tribute unto the greatest work of Jibanananda Das – ‘Banalata Sen'. Some parts of it are twisted – based on my limited understanding. But with eons of languages apart, I guess it is important that the metaphors stand out starkly. However, this is nowhere close to the oceans of symbolism in his original. Add to that a few other gratifying suggestions as well! The bengali version follows.).
