Short Poems

Nor stars . . the dark . . and in
The dark the grey
Ghost glimmer of the olive trees
The black straight rows
Of Cypresses.

The silent blue haze in the noonday hills
Is deep with glory, as the very air
Were an alembic.

Non, ton éternité d'inconscience obscure,
D'aveugle impulsion, de mouvement forcé,
Tout l'infini du temps ne vaut pas, ô Nature !
La minute où j'aurai pensé.

I'll settle for the 6 horse

No wine for me!-Nay, an it be thy will,
Kiss first the goblet-I will drink my fill:
How may I, when thy lips have touched it, dare
Be sober still, and that sweet draught forswear:
For the cup steers the kiss from thee to me,
And tells me all the bliss it won of thee.

Um anjo dorme aqui: na aurora apenas,
Disse adeus ao brilhar das açucenas
Sem ter da vida alevantado o véu.
- Rosa tocada do cruel granizo -
Cedo finou-se e no infantil sorriso
Passou do berço p'ra brincar no céu!

No sight can be more autumnal
than that of my garden
Tenanted by an autumnal person
weary of the world!

If someone is rejected in love, s/he shall turn into a foe.
My born-blind heart has never fallen in love
with anybody; throughout the whole life, he has walked alone
on the dry path putting on a pair of old shoes.
That's why, I have enmity with none.

Translated from Bengali by the poet

No doubt about it,
the mountain cuckoo
is a crybaby.


Translated by Robert Hass

The moon shines so brightly besides my bed,
As ground frost I mistook its reflection,
To the moon I lifted my eyes ahead,
Hopelessly homesick as I bowed my head,