Wednesday, 7 February 2024

Shyamal Kanti Das

  


Shyamalkanti Das

The peacock's game 


The peacock has taken me for a snake, and 
The thought makes him rip my body into shreds with
Blows from his beak.
He is clawing through my belly,
Turning the innards out.  
Instead of tears, colloidal mud is all
That emerges from between my eyelids. 
The peacock has held my head tight against the ground; 
With a sudden pull, has severed
My shrivelled appendix of a cock 
And with my trivial profane heart
That resembles cockscomb flowers,
His periodic displays of wondrous sport continue !

While watching the peacock at his game 
I turn into a mere shadow of what I'd been, 
The prowess to raise a hood has long bygone !



Playhouse


Hiding in a corner I wished to witness coitus
You, my sworn enemy
Came from nowhere and turned my head around
Throwing every protest to the wind, you clawed and gnawed 
My lidless eye off its socket.
My cuffs betray the blood which now gurgles forth 
Even a thousand attempts won't yield to me 
The spectacle of a flower in bloom anymore.

I was not at fault 
I only wanted to gape at evens and odds 
And at nature -- no holds barred
Wished to know where Man's so many thrills find final rest 
Wished to know which are the exact beams that now 
Light up the best things that Man finds pleasure in
It was you who did not let me know 
In my learnings a huge, huge fissure prevailed 
Something I will forever regret !

Translated by Bappaditya Roy Biswas 

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