The Price

Kamakshiprasad Chattopadhya (1917-1976) (translated by Sukanta Chaudhuri)
The joy of sipping morning tea with stale mouth
Of stirring up a storm from the newspapers
Will end, alas, today:
Saturday's delight--
Going home to the wife in Krishnanagar,
Pumpkin, spinach, aubergines bundled under arm.

There goes the greenhorn, there the hackneyed crook,
Someone's cousin, someone's uncle
Adept
In planning how to make the extra buck.

We have no-one to cook;
The servant might decamp--
Never mind.

Do you know why the koel still goes on singing?
And the caterpillar creeps in placid rhythm,
The wall-lizard catches bugs contentedly?

It might not be so bad:
Ink-strokes, the falling leaves of early spring,
The page scrolled with the storm-filled sky's delight
On the brink of blue-tinged eyes.