If I become washed away by the evening smoke of this town,

none will find out any sign of my existence anymore.

None will be able to find out that lonely mole of my cheek

Even after ransacking the whole town.

All will lament for me to the path

That remains happy for innumerable noons

keeping my foot print on her bosom.

And you will get only the venom of king cobra.

 

 

If I get lost in evening smoke of this town,

you’ll get only this pair of glaring eyes burnt with offended feelings;

you’ll become tired searching my eyes.

Your midnight will pass silently in burning the core of your heart.

You’ll get only all consummate flames in your meditation.

After crossing a long deceptive course of stone,

when you’ll be able to reach the peak of a mountain

you’ll go on weeping in silent waiting

looking out towards the path.

 

Weeping profuse out,

you will never find me once.

 

 

Dhaka: May 14, 1974

 

 

[ Translations  by Dulal Al Mansur ]