Being a woman comes to me naturally If not me, then who? I was never asked to be one I was never asked to cook
This is a translation by Md. Abu Zafor of Bimal Guha’s “Kalo Biral” from the collection ‘E Kon Matal Nritya' (first published in 2022).
Time to set sail for a new cruise, oh dear voyager Sindbad!
Time, heavy as a thousand suns combined,/ Bends mothers, smaller than the ones they bore,
What’s life if a sense of darkness/ doesn’t connect night to sunlight
Your tea in the kettle, piping hot water/ No sugar, so that you can really taste the tea on your tongue
This universe’s heart is hollow now for humanity has died inside it.
Spacious, shiny, new roads are built in my city to rent them for raw-markets
The hush of dawn and the whispered breeze,/ that caresses nature's resting face
Being a woman comes to me naturally If not me, then who? I was never asked to be one I was never asked to cook
This is a translation by Md. Abu Zafor of Bimal Guha’s “Kalo Biral” from the collection ‘E Kon Matal Nritya' (first published in 2022).
Time to set sail for a new cruise, oh dear voyager Sindbad!
Time, heavy as a thousand suns combined,/ Bends mothers, smaller than the ones they bore,
What’s life if a sense of darkness/ doesn’t connect night to sunlight
Your tea in the kettle, piping hot water/ No sugar, so that you can really taste the tea on your tongue
This universe’s heart is hollow now for humanity has died inside it.
Spacious, shiny, new roads are built in my city to rent them for raw-markets
The hush of dawn and the whispered breeze,/ that caresses nature's resting face
She stands in front of the canvas and stares.