Ketan Sheikh's selected poem - Baribaho

 

Ketan Sheikh's selected poem on monsoon

Baribaho (The Rain)

English adaptation by Ayon Abdullah

 

When dry anklets touch the ground,
Feet pressing on the thirsty mound,
The Jarul blooms stand motionless 
Summer’s apathy profound.

 

Festive ledgers may unfold,
Yet leaves burn, wither in the gold.
The green has turned to grey, and all
Parasols gather dust untold.

 

Sun blazes in a faded sky,
Wrath of many births drifting by.
Where are the clouds? the question swells
With nature’s sulking sigh.

 

In the scent of water fire,
In the salt of sweat desire.
A burdened chest, a breath grown heavy,
Wears grief like secret lyre.

 

This earth bears heat in mournful tune,
No raindrop’s dance, no monsoon’s boon.
When will flowing waters cleanse
This land’s age-old marooned rune?

 

When shall Ashar’s clouds arise,
Shaking rooftops, roaring skies?
When shall streets in ink-black veils
Turn to ponds of joyful cries?

 

When shall Shraban's Kadamb bloom,
Flood the Mandakini with monsoon,
And love confess in open tones 
"I’ve known you, known you soon."

 

In naked skin, a scent of soil,
In heart the shadows softly coil.
The sky wears Krishna’s dusky cloak,
Rain wraps us in its royal foil.

 

Love shall sprout in Kadam's charm,
Vines and shrubs wear golden warm.
On riverbanks the wet sand sheds
Its dusty, suffocating form.

 

In autumn’s clear and upright view,
The mind longs to wander through 
Perhaps that's why it counts the days,
For monsoon’s promised dew.

 

©Sheikh Selim

Published in shobdomukur.com as part of Monon Mukur E-Magazines.