Bunohaansh

Original poem: Jibonananda Das | Translation: Koel Mallick

The Wild Ducks

The owl's ashen wings fly towards the

dizzying heights of the stars —

Leaving behind the marshy lands and

the low lying bog

In answer to the moon's bewitching lure

The wild ducks spread their restless wings- in a lyrical flight

The speeding flutter of their wings

heard by me

Sweeping the sky

Once - twice - thrice - four times -

Countless -

Infinite -

The sound of the frenzied beating of their wings

At night's liminal edge

Like the resounding drone

Of the moving engine; the birds soaring

Racing higher - higher still.

Yet what remains is a

faraway star in its vast expansive sky

A whiff of fleshly scent

Of the wild ducks

And one or two birds of spirited fantasy and imagination.

Memories awaken of yonder -

the time-swept face of the

village girl Arunima Sanyal;

May they fly and soar in the

streaming moonlight of

a wintry bareness in a quiet flight.

The ducks of imagination -

when all sounds all hues of

the earth have been silenced

May they still fly higher and higher

in the heart's cage

Where soundlessly moonlight still sweeps in.