Grass is sprouting on my bones
All is not well with the spine.
As I attempt to board a crowded bus
The spine pulls me down.
My grip loosens.
Like the last drop of rain etched
on the telegraph pole,
I struggle to turn my head
and look backwards
I still remember what my elders
taught me when I was young:
Never alight from a moving bus
while looking backwards.
My comrades, who wanted to change the world
Were in such a hurry
That now they have changed themselves instead.
I still balance myself on the foot of the bus.
Even when my grip loosens, I praise my luck,
I am still unable
to look backwards.
Today is the birth anniversary of ‘Padatik Kobi’ Subhas Mukhopadhyay. This is a translation of his poem ‘Jhulte Jhulte’. My small tribute to the great poet.
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Posted on February 12, 2020, in poetry and tagged bengali poem, Bengali poetry, Jhulte Jhulte, Kobi Subhas, Padatik Kobi, Padatik Kobi Subhas, Padatik Kobi Subhas Mukhopadhyay, poem, poems, Poetry, Subhas Mukherjee, Subhas Mukhopadhyay, Subhas Mukhopadhyay poem, translation. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.