SPARK

Come, sit beside me

fed up with this living

ye ,- yet the last hope

ii..

Sky wrapped in grief

dark cloud descends

to console the captive Earth.

iii.

Cosmos evolves and Space expands

galaxies dance with steller bloom

I am sent to witness and report .

iv

Those who can clip a flower

to please the lover

are murderers too. ( written in April' o3)

LOVE STORY

Now at eighty-plus

and still living or alive.

While then,...- at my teens

liked a girl - in my village

as if, my 'First Love'.

Don't know if she knew it or remember

don't know where is she, to-day !

Can't even remember her face

not even her name !

For,...to-day

as they all say ----

I have Alz.

[composed on 27th May ''10]

LOVE STORY

Now at eighty-plus -while

then, at my teens

liked a girl - in my villege

like my 'First Love'.

Don't know if she knew it or remember

don't know where is she, to-day !

Can't even remember her face

not even her name

For,...to-day

as they all say ----

I have ALZ.

DT

SPARK

i

Cerulean space and luminous Cloud

moutain tops with bed-spread snow

and I , as if, Existence alone !

ii

Deeper the root and taller the tree

closer comes down , - azure sky!

iii

Had a long , long life

loved and wept

enjoyed and suffered

for whom or for what .

iv

Green foliage become pale

youth aging and sliding Sun

rolling life alaround .

v

'Sprig-time' - you told

and yet, - on western sky

it's Sun-set time. ( April '2003, )

SUN-SET ROMANCE

Seemed, like a pearl

on side-walk track

while on evening walk

Picked up and kept, with a smile

then, -it slipped from my grip

(I remember) while on return.

The gain and loss

balanced so well

the setting sun now hides

The curtain drops

on the stage of beyond

my shadow becoming tall.

MODERN TIME

On such sultry days/ it's better to keep awake / taking a reposing posture from day to day/ If I woo sleep - weariness grows apace / and I dream dreams that are fatiguing

No longer in my dreams / can i play the role of a prince, -of fairy tales / nor spin a yearn of the 'Winged Horse' /What foul weather waylays me / behind the screen of dreams / I retreat/ all over smeared with blood /ruthlessly smitten by nightmare

It's better far, to sit up and recline / and put up the semblance / of being alive.

(Translated , from Bengali poem of 1970s, by Umanath Bhattacharya).

* Title changed by the poet.

THAT MAN ( my poem )

Something somewhere he must have lost / and it seems, he himself does not know / and with that state of mind he looks relieved//Loosing someone dear one may weep / loosing the dearest , feel suffocated otherwise /Or, after loosing all that is dear one may look like that man / for, he is not weeping nor looks overwhelmed with grief / yet so listless or extreme apathy has wrapped him around, - as if / nothing has happened nor can be happening now !

Measuring the overhead sky, he pricks his prickly-heat / Such contrast of existential apathy is the puzzling jest / maybe, even Buddha would have liked to emulate him / as if, he is seeking the Absolute empty space

And with that vacant mood he stays reclined / pricking his prickly -heat spots ,- now and then

Feeling such scenario has no value in life / I stood up and stepped aside from the mirror /

in front of me.

( written in Bengali in 1970-s ; translated by the poet on 05/20/10

RE-INCARNATION

A new life after consecration

no linger sorrow appears sorrowful to me

nor any gain as Happiness

And when , anything slips from my hand

there is no feeling of loss either.

My mental state is like the sore of a leper

the old ulcer always there , but no pain

me-seens, I have crossed over to haven of fulfilment

or achieved the fruit of penance

Time is ,yet, experimenting with me

and after this Game, -will discard me

regretting the waste of Time

There after, - dressed anew

I shall rise ,again , to be Re-born.

(translated from Bengali poem of 1970-80s ;by Umanath Bhattacharya )

MAN ON THIS PLANET ( A POEM )

Like bastard babies abandoned to their fate

a few dew drops on the pale withered leaf

are startling in fear of the peering Sun.

Yet, this morn as a mother expectant

is blushing crimson ,- dreaming of a new-born.

This off-spring of moisture alone,- I see

not convinced by assurance of golden day

suspicious like the people, frustrated , -displaced

are dazed with panic, - finding no way

to survive , on that sere moribund leaf.

Apprehending their desiccated Death,, any time

under the triumphant Archway of crimson Sun

Lord, how they srink a-trembling

these dew-drops stranded !

_______________________________________________________________

Translated from Bengali poem (1960s) of Phani Basu by Umanath Bhttacharya in 1980)

COBALT _ 60

DELHI UNIVERSITY

THE Capital's Institution of Learnijg

And Maya puri , where that poor man

had nothing to learn nor - a chance for it

but wanted to live his life , through hard work.

And he had to die

or was forced to learn the 'Chemistry of Fate'

and also more

though he had no business to know

yet was destined to die

in the 'FIRE''

of COBALT - 60

as, that was his fate !