The Golden Partridge-01
There is no endearing lover, though this heart seeks her
There is no such things as pure love, impurities flow in the blood
Once who come with pretensions of love are only temporal
Did you not saw, the whole world is bankrupt on the issue of love?
Does the heart have any value in the pomp-tinged glitter?
Love’s merchandise puts on the lighted decore of festivals
Like a lonely bird I hide my secrets and my diffidence
Coddling hyge pain in a wounded heart.
I still walk on this path, the heart after all is not a mere machine
And trade everyday in the marketplace of love
Even though in the name of love dreams come and disappear
The heart is inundated in tears, who is there to care?
Tell me, who is more hopelessly fallen in love, so easily ensnared?
Radha and shyam with their short-lived romance would be no match?
The Golden Partridge-02
If I happen to catch the beloved’s pair of eyes that, like Noah’s Ark
Is a haven of promised shelter, at some auction
I would by the pair with the price of my love-drenched heart
Hoping they would diffuse the light of faith and affection.
O bird, does your nest get destroyed by sheer want of faith
Like man’s nest does in the storm of tribulations?
No matter how much care I put into building the nest it breaks down
Seeking assurance in safety I look towards the bird’s habitat.
The way birds return to their nests everyday at the end of day
Weariness of the day’s hard labour is shaken off
Fear and anxiety are carlmed, cooled anew in their beings
I too should heed to Noah’s bidding and embark for the crossing.
Not just an earthly nest, I am in search of a golden pool
Where coral and lotus bow in prayer on shoal of love’s paradise.
The Golden Partridge-03
The wounded heart look’s for love in all corners of the world
Yet how much of that world’s love is stored in that very heart
I have not quantified, nor have I found the right metaphor
So, is the world being cruel by keeping love close to its own heart.
Like the huming birds I come home at the end of the day
And find that there is not as much love as the need dictates
There must be discrimination in love, or else it is all a game of hearts
… a sleight of hand and there is no telling who wins or loses!
There is discrimination in our love for the creation
And the love for the creator is spiked anew each day
Perhaps it is the unfulfilled love that sets the scene
Perhaps the eternal love speakes only in your tongue.
Where did you get that love from which Lord?
Give me a share of that which is held your heart.
Translated from the Bengali By Prof. Farida Mazid
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