যাও তবে সখা দূর-দূরান্তে উড়ে—
প্রেমের বাঁধনে যে ধরেছে ভাঙ্গন
স্নেহের শিকড় যে গেছে উপড়ে॥
রাখিতে যে নাহি পারলাম তোমায়
সকলি বাসনার যে হলো বিসর্জন—
ঘর আমার আজি শূন্য যে হায়
কি করিব আমি বড় যে নিরুপায়॥
তবুও জীর্ণ হৃদয় কক্ষে আশা
রয়ে গেলো কোমল স্মৃতি মাঝে—
হতভাগ্য আমি রইবো এতেই তুষ্ট॥
For S. N.― বিদায়গীৎ
Bardhaman, Āśvina Kṛṣṇā Tṛtīyā.
The 19th of September in 2016.
A gloom has fallen.
Dark, these corridors.
Deathly silence speaks.
A distant ray gleams.
A forlorn sense of hope.
I’m lost without you.
I’m lost without you.
Its sufferings tragic.
I’m lost without you.
Into the droughts of the heart.
No warmth now remains.
Freely and willingly, pour.
Freely and willingly, give.
Serene and blissful.
Lost, now I long to be found.
All misery and pain.
So worthless and so vile.
Leave me not.
Hither, approach.
Bring me back to life.
Till death do us part.
“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts […]”
― William Shakespeare: “As You Like It”
There draws the eventide.
The long night’s darkness is here.
Behold, how fearful their voices sing:
The children of the light await the dawn!
Gloom descends; sorrow overwhelms.
Darkness engulfs; hope, it devours.
Things known become steadily unknown.
Things close become steadily distant.
Things familiar become unfamiliar.
Life passes away, swiftly.
What is real? and what is truth?
Lo, I hear a voice in the wilderness―
“He, whose eyes governs creation
From the highest heavens, he knows―
Or, maybe even he does not know.”
From fire to smoke, from smoke to winds;
From winds to clouds, from clouds to rain;
From rain to earth, from earth to grains;
From grain to oven, from oven to man;
From man to seed, from seed to womb;
From womb to life, from life to death:
― agne naya supathā rāye asmān ―
“Lead us, O Agni, along the path to prosperity!”
There, and back.
There, and back.
Again, and again.
Again, and again.
Behold, ye sorrowful, behold!
The heavens burst with lights!
The winds dance in exultation!
A herald has come:
Hope, he has brought!
Of truth, let this be known:
Let us not be deceived by it!
Upon this humbling hour,
In solitude, a child wonders.
Of him, O Muses, sing:
Homo humilis: man of the earth―
Not to become, but to remain.
O mighty hosts of mightier heaven,
For us, at this august hour, pray:
Forgiveness for errors past,
Benedictions over times to come.
Ave Maria, gratia plena,
Mater dei, ora pro nobis!
May there be peace!
May there be well-being!
Fairfarren, and welcome!
Osnabrück, Pauṣa Kṛṣṇā Caturdaśī
The 31st of December in 2013.
He walks about like a mad man,
No day, no night, does he know.
He has fallen in love, they say,
Fallen in those cavernous depths
Of no return.
For his sins, he claims,
He has found absolution.
For his invisible flaws, he rants,
He has found his remedy.
Woe, for Love has blinded him,
For he has loved another blindly!
He burns, friends, day and night.
The vision of perfection has inflamed him!
The balm of his sorrows,
His vision has consumed him.
From these mortal cliffs,
He has plunged himself,
Into the heart of eternity.
In his fall, he rejoices!
In his joy, he loves!
In love, he perishes!
Dearly beloved,
We are gathered here today,
To mourn our loss of this man!
We had all loved him so,
To Love now, have we lost him!
Pray, let us lament this man!
Pray, let us lament his fall!
For Sourav Chatterjee―
Osnabrück, Śrāvaṇa Śuklā Aṣṭamī.
The 14th of August in 2013.
In silent dreams,
In dearth of light,
A desolate spirit
Stubbornly seeks—
With a lantern of hope,
In a life little-remembered:
A golden-haired stranger,
With eyes of a brilliant blue!
Distant voices,
Forgotten faces,
Dissolving joylessly,
Into the blackening rivers.
I run back in time,
Searching for you—
Calling out your name—
Oscar, beloved Oscar!
Drizzling rain,
Cradled by unruly winds,
Under the clouded heavens—
Two strangers, you and I—
Walking down the stone paths,
Down along familiar roads.
Suddenly you stop—
In revelation unknown—
You turn and smile,
Into my questioning eyes.
Spontaneously.
Two lives crossing.
In one moment.
Born of fate.
Frozen in time.
Destined.
Forever to last.
Running playfully,
Through the golden fields,
Under a sky divinely azure—
In a memory barely remembered,
Or in a thought never abandoned,
I remember our moment.
And I call out your name—
Oscar, beloved Oscar!
Will I ever see you again?
Will our paths ever cross?
Golden-haired stranger,
With eyes of a brilliant blue—
Speak to me once more—
From the unknown depths.
These untraveled roads—
Will you walk with me?
To and fro, turning,
I—in my lonely bed—
Staring at empty walls.
Shivering.
Devoid of hope.
Your face dissolving,
In the waters of time.
I stretch my hand,
With fading hope,
In the merciless silence,
Whispering—
Oscar, beloved Oscar!
Through the golden fields,
Under a sky divinely azure—
Will you hold my hand?
As our lives entwine with hope,
And as our hearts join in love,
Beyond the trodden horizons—
Will you walk with me?
A weary spirit,
Heavy with hope,
Now longs for you—
Oscar, beloved Oscar!
The nightmares creep.
The shadows return to haunt.
The veil of oblivion descends.
The spirit trembles,
In fear of loneliness.
I run, longing for light,
Away from the darkness,
Leaping into a darker ocean.
Miserable, I wake,
And call out your name—
Oscar, beloved Oscar!
Turn your face.
Look into my eyes.
One more time.
Passionately—
Let me call out,
In sweet remembrance:
Your forgotten name –
Oscar, beloved Oscar!
Golden-haired stranger,
With eyes of a brilliant blue—
Come back to me,
From the unyielding depths,
And walk once more
Down our familiar road.
Turn your face and smile.
Come closer to me.
In my ears, whisper:
The name I love so—
Oscar, beloved Oscar!
One more glimpse.
One more smile.
Faithfully, I seek.
Never finding.
Yet undaunted.
Stubbornly, I seek—
A golden-haired stranger,
With eyes of a brilliant blue—
Oscar, my beloved Oscar!
For M.―
Osnabrück,
Kārtika Śuklā Ekādaśī,
The 24th of November in 2012.