A swan is calling me

from the midst of tender mystery

standing in a barren field far away holding out

its long saddened neck

as if to eat up my soul.

 

 

If to snatch away all my sins, all my meanness,

This swan will, as if, eat my span of life with relish.

 

 

A swan is like a love chariot having the stores of light

on its neck,

and golden drabs over its wings.

 

 

A swan is calling me with tender mystery

wishing to take me away in flights

in a far away forlorn field at a watery damp noon,

crossing the distant clouds and ranges of hills;

ransacking all the forest paths it will take me away,

take me away in flights.

 

 

Dhaka: May 19, 1974

 

 

[ Translated by Dulal Al Mansur ]