Walkaround

Shyamol Kanti Das (translated by Khademul Islam)
For long has the dust blown in front of the ferry mooring
For long have the coolieworkers slept beside brick-kilns
Somewhere is seen sparks from fires
Somewhere steam issues forth
Somewhere the tide no longer flows
And foam has gradually congealed to iron hardness

Oars none sailors none
At the back upturned lies the broken boat
Rotten fish scattered all around
Within the sand sighs the eagle's bones
I keep on walking, fording the river of delight
Here I spot the broken bangle, there the vermilion daub
I keep on walking, crossing tangles of barbed wire
And inside the lantern shiver
Cowardly love and Chaitra dusk

Bit by bit my country shrinks
And like blurry trees in a lifting curtain of fog
A foreign land blooms
And yet my walk along this dirt path does not come to an end
Does not come to an end, this long walkaround beneath a dark sky!