SUBHENDU MUND
(Translated from Oriya)
Even before the birds can know that
the sun is going to set
unseen hands, cool and soft
caress their velvety wings.
After they have left the sky
the sea looks more terrifying
more gloomy – as if it has nothing
to do with the banner fluttering on the
blue wheel; or the intimate clusters of
casuarina trees.
The sea seems to be receding every minute;
my outstretched hands hang wearily
like unwanted guests,
in the vain attempt to touch
its foamy being.
As if it is a half-familiar face,
going away with an uncertain smile,
as if it does not quite remember
when we had met,
or when we shall again meet
in an unknown point of time.
Its dark form gradually dissolves
in the night
as if in its own self.
In the deep embrace of darkness
I become merely a voice;
the earth becomes
a harmony of voices in the night.
The voices, as if, are merely echoes
The sea becomes a harmony of voices.
In the harmony of dark vices,
the earth transforms itself
into an ocean.