You are leaving, and I too shall leave.
The kash grass says, why not buy an ocean, and a pinch of sky's blue; let me lend it to you this evening!
Wild grass stirs awake in mirth and revelry;
the headline reads: preparations to purchase an ocean!
I remember, how long has it been since you were a neighbor to words?
Living alone day by day...no, it's passed well enough!
The birds have sent letters, go to the forest...
Such a forest, where there is no green, in the depths even birds don't perch on barbed wire, yet
once humans belonged to this earth!
Once, in blazing sun the city would crack and split apart,
I would still wander searching for the flame tree's color!
Where the golden shower bloomed, on which city wall children
drew pictures with chalk and coal, I would still peer closely, closely!
The kash grass says even today, why not buy an ocean, and a pinch of wind's fragrance, let me lend it to you this evening!
How the evening moon intoxicates, a few steps forward and spring calls;
it says, place your foot on the threshold, wanderer,
don't peek into the inner chambers!
I laugh and tumble again, searching for flame trees on the city's streets.
Then why did you place your lips on my wet sleeve, O girl? You won't speak, neglect rises strong, I know!
Like a soundless tree, even a bankrupt man becomes destitute!
Earth-human-tree, these three in happiness are lifelong disciples of sorrow.
In adolescent waters you are a lover, girl, I am the storyteller sage
at Dakshineshwar, by the Ganges' shore.
I've completely forgotten how your crimson lips looked.
We had agreed, this Boishakh we'd set up our wedding bed on glass petals!
One afternoon by the Ganges' shore, I was reading the Ramayana.
I thought, what am I doing...a pauper's feast at the deity's offering!
From then began the flight...rivers-trees-forests!
Mountains, oceans will let me stay,
houses built upon waves, kinfolk built upon them!
The kash grass still says, why not buy an ocean, a pinch of happiness's fire, let me lend it to you this evening!