A few Poems of Hiren Bhattacharyya

A few Poems of Hiren Bhattacharyya

Poem of One Killed in The Procession

Translated by Dr Bipul Kumar Baruah

The fire has been kindled verily by me.
I know Mother, in the light of this blazing
Will be vivid upon your ailing face Unprecedented form of the Earth.

That's why fire has been set on my effort.

What for you love to console me
Days after days
At the end of nights
With soft soothing breeze Mother
I do not know.
With cruel forgiveness do not inflict me.
For you Mother
Many times I poured blood from bosoms of numerous loved ones.
This time my corpus has been hymn-adorn.

I am overwhelmed in the serene
An accomplishment that I have payed
My debt of being born.

That's why by me the fire has been blazed on.
From You to Me

It takes a long while
To come back to me
From you.
Flying all through
Along firmly pinned darkness
The Jesmine fragrance
Stealthily arrives whence
That duration I do remain with you.

A playful fawn wags and waltzes
Swaying in my dream
All throughout the night
Oh, I can hardly come back!

The Tracing

Translated by Dr Bipul Kumar Baruah

Here;  in this very site where
You had fastened the jovial horse
Of your youth dedicated
 for freedom and peace
The horseshoe dusts
Like gusts of spring breezes
Kissed my ruddy sky
And its sentinel
Green meadows.

Thereafter, traversed
the fiery Sun of early summer
And a number of
storms of early monsoon.

Many a times I get up
From dreams
As if somewhere
Either in Africa or Telangana
That horse is galloping
And your whip is glistening
With virility of solitary nights.

Translated by Dr Bipul Kumar Baruah

Crawl on me as crawls a creeper vine
Leaning your body in mine one
Right from my sole to hair.
From my palm network
You may propagate
Up to far horizon.

I shall rot and be destined unto your root

In dry manure of my decomposed bones
You will thrive with vibrancy
The fragrance of flowers and leaves
Shall be redolent everywhere.

Alphabet of Cognisance

Translated by Dr Bipul Kumar Baruah

Make me too your lover
Over my trodden body let springal breeze play
Let favourite vocabulary collide onto my heart.
Let captivated letters of the alphabet of cognisance be liberated
In their corpus let festive costumes dazzle
Come on
Let's listen to your song
Serene silent song of love.

Song of Phagun (Late Winter Early Spring Song)
Translated by Dr Bipul Kumar Baruah

A gust of arid wind
Blows away leaves.
Jovial aves do waltz
Resting on twigs of trees.
On tinklings of rattle do get up
Fresh newborn leaves.

Over that red petal of cotton wool tree
You have arrived and set your smile
Unsure of on what whether in ripples
Or tumultuous musings of flute
Has gone in a flight
A lump of cotton wool.
Why have you slept down so
Over the meadows?

Phagun knows illusive tricks
As night arrives moons get lit up
On each and every dried up brunches.
Sorrowful cuckoos render
Their mellifluous heart-breaking voices.

Are you sure what's the yield of Phagun
Or it has taken away?
But your neck gets adorn with the Moon
Of my love at night
With the excuse of listening songs.

The Song of Spring (To a poet)

Translated by Bhaswati Dekaraja

The thick mist fell last night
At the bottom of the hill
A bird made the sky cry
Singing all night.

In the morning,
Dust of snow fell on the trees, on the hills
Like the bokul flowers
If spring had arrived
By the voice of a bird
If she could remove
Mist by her light wings.


Translated by Syed Ahmed Shah

Whatever was uttered
By the storm bird
Was claimed by the clouds
That day
With tender touch
In the heart of the sea
On top of the mountain peak
Whatever was uttered That day...
On top of the mountain
It turned into stones
In the heart of the ocean
As waves it sustained
The storm-bird
In the sky …..alone…

The Awakening
Translated by Syed Ahmed Shah

It was still dark when I woke up.
Petals of a fanciful the vision left me one by one
Like flowers falling off from the coiffure of a fleeting fairy.
The din of the earth
Trapped now
In my body of thorns;
And, the subtle the curiosity of the vision retreating,
Like a transient shadow.

Harvest Me
Translated by Syed Ahmed Shah
With your hands reaping God's bounty, please pick me up;
Branches, leaves, roots, the whole of me-

I'll be a song on your lips.

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