Chandan Goswami Four Poems

Chandan Goswami Four Poems: Privacy, Bounce, Poetry & For those who haven’t a Yard

Translated by Gayatri Devi Borthakur

 

Privacy

Poetry is privacy
Or
Privacy is Poetry

Is throughout a dark path
With this topic only

Inflation

Unrestricted sexuality
High breed vegetables

Sedition

Terrorism
Terrorism is covering the air

In the dense forest
Who will provide
Carbon dioxide
Or Oxygen

To burn
To be burnt

To rot
To be rotten

Nocturnal pollutions
Seminal effusions

Youth dries

Who will protect the succession?

Who asked the moon, dipped in dreams?

Race and Racism

Human of a creed

Or creeds of human

Who ever started the game of a Dice?

The world is in its orbit
Busy, the secret power of
Privacy is…

 

Bounce

The Universe is under jurisdiction
Twenty four into six minutes
For almost

In the deep blue schedule of time
Is a green ship
Where Cricket lonely floats

Where the Sun never sets
At present only bounces

Bounce in life
Is a myth

Bluff is in hearts
In shoulders
In nose and mouth
In head
In all parts

A whistles of bounce is in the air

Silently there in the myth of mythologies
Of past eras

At present in the land of five cubit in measure
Is the high toned symphony of the Beethoven?
To dominate in every sphere

The another metaphor or imaginary
Of voluminous Youth is
Bounce

Dust a raised
A raised dust

Air separated
Separated air

Blazed flames
Flamed blazes

River of blood
Blood of river

Cricket isn’t dust
Air isn’t Cricket
Cricket isn’t a game of blaze
Is neither a game
Of blood-red color

Cricket or cricket
crease
Batsman
bowler
Empire

In every second is only
The kurukshetra of bounce
Of truth
Of live

It bounces like bounce
Of the Mahabharata
Of the Ramayana
And of the splendid lives

 

Poetry

As you keep unveiling the meanings
Pain will be increased
Pronounced words are the speakers
Readers are the cruel beings

In the seventh dimension of a light year of the Universe
The sailor is on the way to the distant horizon
Making its meaning

A leech from one grass to another
Absorbing blood from the vaginal of a pig
Guesses the myths

Spies are in the air
In water
In land
A poet sprinkles life in the knowledge
Transformed from one spy to another

Every element is in the game of dice that is full of tricks
The sky, the air, the moon, the Sun and the stars

Cloudy land is the result

I remember nothing said to me
When I came back everybody was far away from the fire
Busy in conversation

It is true that everybody warmed up in solidarity
Coming back from the water

Water and fire purifies everything
Fire and water—perfect couple, made for each other

After knowing all these
Putting the fruit in mouth
Enormous procession came one after another
With endless hopes

Endless illusions
Who waits listen the last word?
A soldier or a lover

Everyone who removes starvation with your flesh
In the battlefield
Trembles hearts with the experiences of crossing the hells

In the weeping of dreams and nightmares
Is the pathetic tells of all the suffered of the Universe

Who will reform such lameness?

Who will translate the meaning of the morning Sunshine?
Stored in the beak a of a couple of mynah

A tell waiting for another tell

 

For those who haven’t a Yard

Those who haven’t a yard
Also haven’t seedlings of Jasmine
Nor they have the large bundles of paddy sheaf
Nor the stars

If there is no yard
There must not be a pedal
Nor the two women gossiping
While picking up louses of one another

Where the grannies will sprinkle the sweetness of their stories

No imagination
No dreams

If there is no yard
How the Sparrows will come
Where the dove and the mynah will coo

The lines of the ants
The worms carrying rain drops in their bodies
Will them
If there is no yard
The lasses staring the long entrance of the houses
Where will rest

The mass is losing
Many things, gradually

The wetlands
The backyards full of nuts
The lemon trees
The shrubs of bitter flowers
The trees of sour fruits
The backyards full of plums and pineapples and many more

The villages
The looms
The marriage pandals

Having no Yards
Must be a symbol of modernity…

 

…

Gayatri Devi Borthakur (1980), a teacher by profession, is a poetess, story writer, translator from Assam.  She also writes poems and stories for children. She completed her master’s in Sanskrit. Her articles, Poems etc. are published in various magazines and newspapers of Assam.

Chandan Goswami

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