Tuesday, February 28, 2006


to transl(iter)ate dd's post

not a literal translation.. merely my take away from my limited understanding ofthe bengali language and the poet's sentiments. An attempt to match the voice of my soul with theirs.

"i returned many times over
to watch the flower not bloom
to feel the melancolic night not pass by
to be clothed in the shadows that refused to break"

Opening lines...

... of what will hopefully be my first (and only??) book :

Big city, bright lights; that’s what our lives are made of,
Of tireless struggles through endless days,
Of broken dreams and lost sleep,
Of memories we won’t retrace,
Of promises we cannot keep.
Big city, bright lights; reminding us every moment,
Of our purpose in the worlds’ larger scheme
Of the ourselves we need to believe in
Of places where we’ve never been
Of our quest to find our heaven.