What is that which creeps upon the silent water
As the surface grows uneven, that grows big in size as
Moments pass and murmur of voices stay?
Ahoy! Yes, that’s a boat carrying two youths,
Lively in their discourse, unaware of me as they pass.
Is it the drunken stupor of an indulgence gay,
Or the vigour of youth, that brushes past the world
Around and the concerns of the day in arrogant indifference?
Oh yes, the blood boils strong and the hand itches hard-
The youth wishes to hit the world hard.
Did I not live days such quite a few summers ago?
How they would throw orders and my spite grow!
I lived life full in the vigour of a youth untamed
Before which the heat of this couple would be a shamed!
Yes, there lived such a youth in a country old,
As the winter deepened his heart was sold.

O lament, do not set in my heart
For then I would cry for the days before!
O lament, do not set in, as the tears would not
Let me see the other shore!

Ah! There staggers a man as he breaks the bottle of his hand,
He stumbles and falls upon an alien land.
There would be lie in peaceful dreams,
Uncaring and uncared for,
And with the rising sun, he would rise in a world new.
But again the sun would set- would then the bottle he abhor?

The dog barks and steals a little warmth from a rag
That shrouds a figure of bones and skin,
I just see his hands and they are so thin!
O I pity at day the impoverished soul
That toils from door to door for a refused piece of bread stale.
The night sets in and he lies in peace,
Unsure whether upto the next sunrise would life sail.
Do I envy him, as he lies not far from me,
Uncaring as to what sleeps now next to him?
Uncaring to the falling dew and shallow breath,
Uncaring of the shroud over him?
Yes, and when the shallow breath leaves him,
There would he lie amidst the last tributes of his abode-
The fallen leaves, the dust and the dew.
The rag would lie just like that with purpose changed,
To the earth would his remains go.
Do I envy the beggar, freed from agonies few?
-17.18\12\98,Calcutta-63