When the poet lies in bed,
beloved daughters and sons grow restless;
neighbors and cherished friends
hover in anxious curiosity.
Students-poets, learning the art of reading,
etch his name on blackboards and benches,
while the learned may forget the true souls of village towns.
Is the poet a council of state, an adviser to fleeting power? No; with two or four poems,
he moves as shadow-body, not a harbinger
of worlds.
If illness or death visits, his mind drifts�"
to books unopened, words unspoken,
and the question: will a stranger ever read them?
In his days, seeds of verse fall on fertile fields;
a few devoted readers trace strands of his hair
with fingers like the teeth of combs,
spreading tender affection.
Yet indifferent kin, like rotting tubers,
cast him aside in harsh reality.
Still undisturbed remain Mahmud Sajjad, beloved sons, Sabina Yasmin, the strict life partner,
the only shadow-bearing son,
beloved daughter-in-law, all near,
but only the poet knows the void within the body.
Translated by Alam Mahbub.
