Bengali Poetry (Translated)

The Sorrow of Joy

How much sorrow do you carry?
I had asked this girl, restless
as a rain-drunk chataka bird, her eyes
shimmering like a lotus pond
when I met her gaze.

Sorrow! No, I have no sorrow at all!
The girl replied, lifting those wavering eyes.
I am wonderfully happy—
no one understands even this much,
my sorrow is only this small!

In my heart I said, dear girl,
hold fast to your restless girlhood,
don't let youth enter that body!
You'll be ruined...
ruined like me...
your sorrow will only grow then!
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