Aug 13, 2013

Pressing hours of high monsoon

যায় দিন শ্রাবণদিন যায়
Jaay din Sraabon din jaay (audio)

Pressing hours of high monsoon
Cloud my heart,
Whisper the emptiness
Of my bizarre longing,
Piqued by an enchanting dusk

A solitary night is imminent.
My lamp flickers,
With promise, questions,
The void vibrates with ambivalence.
There are no answers,
Only a wild wind
Embarks homeless on the pathway

The opaque dark has stifled my dreams.
But the night, wounded with heartbreak,
Hunts for expression, eloquence
Through the rustling music of rain,
The sodden fragrance of Malati.

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