Wednesday, September 20, 2006


By Abani Chakravarti
Translated from original Asomiya by
Dibyajyoti Sarma

The hummings of his dreams
He plastered on the walls of the houses
And the song that burst out from his lips
He wanted to play on a flute

That was not an accident
lying on the ground
In a natural posture
The picture printed by a newspaper
Coming out from there
Calls forth a camera

Inside his eyelids
Opening all the door and windows
Numerous ants
Are busy in their
Eternal construction
One by one
They carry the wings
Of his dreams
To the hole under ground

On his forehead instead of eyes
To cultivate more dreams
He had dug to dip wells

The arrows of light
Held in his fist
The heavy footsteps
Written by the fingers of his feet
Are silently carried beneath the soil
Now from everywhere he’s surrounded by
Soil, soil, and soil

A sesame plant is
Not a witness
Now he
Climbs the stairs of darkness
One body is the guard of another
He has not come out yet
Has not identified
His dead body


  1. Boy, that is some poem. It is scary too. When was it written? I liked the lines about the ants especially. THe stanza that ends "he dug to dip wells" intrigued me. Didnt follow that. Should it be deep wells or something?
    Keep up, Dibya, with a bit of polishing you may publish them as a book. Many of these translations I read here are good poems.

  2. Thanks,
    A book, that's an idea.
    About the wells part, I mean, instead of his eye-sockets he has two deep ponds, so that he can cultivate more dreams.
    This is a special poem, in a sense that, I met the poet once, and after writing this poem (one of his last!), he disapeared. I mean, he vanished without a trace, and he is still missing...