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A Day Eight Years Ago

Jibanananda Das

Published : Saturday, 12 October, 2019 at 12:00 AM  Count : 785
Translated by Rahman m. Mahbub

A Day Eight Years Ago

A Day Eight Years Ago

Heard that
Last night , he was taken to the morgue ;
At Falgun's dark-dead darkness

When the fifth moon had completed its journeyHe aspired to Die to end his saga of life.The bride was lying on his side - the child too;
There was love indeed, moonlit-hope no doubt -
What - did he see the ghosts?
Why couldn't he sleep that night then?
Or didn't he able to sleep for centuries-
Now sleeping in the morgue
Is this kind of sleep he wished for?

In the face of the bloodstream,
Sleeping like a dead- rat on its chest;
Ah! Now, he wouldn't wake up anymore.

No longer wake up.
No more will face the awakening of the awkward- consciousness
No more to endure- the pang of Life
He heard the whisper
When the moon dropped-
A strange darkness at the edge of his window,
Like the camel- neck the dead- silence uttered those words.

Yet, the owl remains awake;
Molten frogs ask for a few moments more.
Another sign of the morn - in heavenly warm-love
Felt in the depth of unintelligible darkness
Struggling against unpardonable net
Even mosquitoes keep alive falling in love with the stream of life.

From the place of blood clay, flies flew again in the sun
Much have I seen the game of flying insects in the waves of golden roses.
As if the comrade-sky -
Capture their minds;
When the moon sunk,
You went to the mighty tree with a pair of ropes in the dense darkness
Alone -all alone,
The Life that enjoyed by Butterfly, Magpie can't be experienced by Man
Knowing this he stepped in darkness

Didn't the branch
Of the tree protest?
Had' the charming fireflies playing upon golden flowers?
Didn't the ancient blind owl come and told:
'Has the old moon drowned under water?'
Let's catch one or two rats now then
Didn't the owl informed profoundly regarding this matter?

This flavour of life - like barley scented evening in the late AutumnYou feel miserable;
Has your heart got the desired soothing touch in the morgue -
Inside the morgue -suffocated
Like blood-drenched lips of a rat.
Oh! Hear
The story of the dead;
Neither has he failed to win the love of any lady;
Nor he has any dissatisfaction in married life
No gap, no void pierce his ways of life
Time to time his wife has filled up all his sense with honeyed loveNo hazard of poverty penetrates everNo anguish, no pains shaken his life like shivering- winter;
In the morgue
Now he is lying dead around the table.

Known - yet known that
Heart of a dame -Love-child-home-not all;
Not money, not fame, not riches -Some enigmatic nothingness a mystery, endangered anxiety plays in our veins;
That made us weary,
Weary- wearied we are;
But in the morgue
There is no such weariness
In the morgue
Now he is lying dead around the table.

Yet, on each night I see, Ah,
The blind owl, sitting upon the branch of the tree,
Turning its eyes, and told: 'Has the old moon drowned under water?'
Let's catch one or two rats then-

Hey forefathers, still excellent?
I will be as old as you; I will throw the old moon and let it be gone through beneath the flooded waters;
We both will go to zero in the lot of things of Life's storehouse.

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