The Key

Your missing, much beloved key
E’en today, with me alone doth lie.
Tell me how you’ll open your trunk.

The beauty spot on your chin there still must be —
My soul! Then why for a fresh new land pine I?
Had to write this letter, to be frank.

The key dear I’d stored with loving care,
Only today the time at last’s arrived.
Do write, if you wish to have it back.

In the midst of all my junk memoir
Your face with sparkling tears alone’s survived
Do write, if you wish to have it back.
___________________________________________________________
Translation of a Bengali poem by Shakti Chattopadhyay

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