It Was Raining Night Long / Abu Karim

Whenever I feel elated, having my hair in my fist

I go on pulling it up if possible

at least lying on back.

And if I am in my own bed lying on back,

and someone drives her tender fingers through my hair

or pulls it inside her fist,

my heart springs out with the flows of elation.

For days and nights, someone drives a comb

in leisure of memories,

and so elation sitting inside my heart,

the fogs of sorrows get lighter all around;

I can have the butterfly of elation in my reach of touch.

It was raining nonstop with cyclone last night;

my sight was boozed,

and restless heart tasted its dissatisfied plight.

At dawn krishnochura, radhachura

and other crimson flowers

were strewn all over the path

that seemed a basket of flowers;

going on that path, I hum a song of Tagore,

mistaken in tune;

memories of last night churn up a storm.

1 June 2003

‘বৃষ্টি ছিল সারারাত’ কবিতার অনুবাদ

[Translated by Dulal Al Monsur]