The cuckoo and the magpie robin's sweet
song that breaks the dawn,
to the rippling fields of rice
my heart is drawn.
In Kajla pond the water spinach flowers'
pollen falls and scatters,
in Moyna lake the lotus blooms
layer upon layer.
Jhingashail, Rupshail and
fragrant basmati grain—
they fill my heart, they soothe
this soul of mine.
Fairy-tale dreams behind my eyes
dance on two leaves of light,
weaving garlands of golden thread
my heart pulls secret-tight.
Through the rice fields the farmer walks
with towel bound round his head,
how many women from doorways
cast sidelong glances instead.
At the village ghat the canal water
laughs and ripples bright,
how many dark-eyed beauties come
with water pots in sight.