Perhaps Even Greed

I wrote this poem last night in Bengali, and then I translated it in order to put it up here. I am not satisfied with the translation, so it might (and should) change sometime in the future!

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Desire. Perhaps even greed . . . .

to sink in the floating whiteness of cotton-like clouds
and cross the limitless azure sky,
to hold in my bare palms the moon-white pearls
from the depths of fathomless oceans,
to break the dark dreams of sleepless nights
with the warm hope of eastern horizons,
I have
a desire, and perhaps even greed.

The deep foundations of weakness’ broken refuge
are nailed to the corners of numb souls.
To snap the senile strings of senseless love
and walk naked on frozen soils,
to dance to the rhythm of the hermit’s cymbals
in the ephemeral dawns on eternal earth,
I have
a desire, and perhaps even greed.

Why that sadness, those morose eyes, and the splayed ends
of some ancient threads in your wrinkled hands?
Why do the broken walls burn in the bitterness
of your torn thoughts’ broken convulsions?
For what, on the moss-covered slippery dank floor,
do your tears give birth to suicidal wrath?

For what mute, invisible reasons do
you have
a lust, and a stagnating need?

an inert desire, or perhaps even greed?

© 2007 Ritwik Banerjee

Perhaps Even Greed by
Ritwik Banerjee is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 License.