LOVE, LIFE AND CREATION
By GOPAL BHAUMIK
(Rendered
by the Author from the original in Bengali)
The Time for creation
goes,
There is no rain:
With eyes on the
barren fields,
The peasant sees
The phantom of the
coming famine;
While there is only
the storm
Brewing
in my heart of hearts.
The Time is bad and
barren,
And Loveless is the
heart:
Those whom I sought
for,
With fire burning in
my eyes,
Went
away leaving me forlorn.
All my love,
Like the molten gold,
Got frozen in the
realm of snows,
And stood before me,
In a horrifying shape,
While Time struggled
on
Like a person
diseased.
The drought for the
peasant will end,
It will rain in the
coming ear;
In the granary he will
store fresh crops
Born
of barren furrows made with thousand ploughs.
Even on that day
I shall rivet my eyes,
On to the firmament
In expectation of
rain,
Waiting silently for
the Time of Creation
To
ring with the song of rain.