If only you can thank the August rain,/The road trips with false lovers,/ The unflattering mirrors, the ditched playgrounds...
Now, would dare break the wall, would you shrug all caution,/Guard your heart with soul's last shred,/Or perish in the name of passion?
Poem by Sadaf Munshi an American poet who was born in Kashmir.
Tonight, let me write!/Let me write/Of the hopeful eyes/And the desperate souls,/Of the severed limbs,/And the silenced songs,
I went sleepless and troubled/ Hiding under my pallid skin/As a thick blanket of darkness/Enveloped the starless night.
The first flutter the first brush, the butterflies the blood rush./I looked away as you did too, me not knowing what to do/ Yet glance
After the burial is over, he reaches the riverbend. A bird seems to arrive from nowhere, its wings flailing the water.
While I fear someone will push me off of the edge,/The mountains tell me, "Don't worry darling, I will catch you".
After the mornings and after the rains,/After you and I go separately to prismatic domains,/It is the solitude which creeps inwards/As if by stealthy steps,
I squirm in my bed / Forget the metaphors, the similes / Allusions, images / Whips after whips of remembering the dead,
When life ebbs, and what remains in the last moments are memories, it's always a 'feeling' which overrides all 'facts'.
Translated by Hindol Bhattacharjee from the Bengali song by Tagore. The original song was composed at Santiniketan, in 1922. I will cross the sea of
