Hasn’t your mind yet begun to rock, my dear
On Chilka waters, with me, your gondolier?
So dense the moonshine’s feel
Oars alone say — silvery hills — we’ve come here both to steal.
Hasn’t the bird yet taken off in your mind?
Whenever I cage it absently, I find
To the distant woods it flees
Hasn’t your mind yet signed the bird’s release?
All the way you went from west to east
This gullible fool you told that at least
For your imagination to cover all earth’s no matter
Doggedly hold I to this faith — and languish in Calcutta.
Translation of a poem by Shakti Chattopadhyay