Soumitra Chattopadhyay, poems, greek poems, Bengali poems,সৌমিত্র চট্টোপাধ্যায়, কবিতা, Despina Avgustinaki, Ujjal Ghosh,

 

SOMEDAYS

Soumitra Chattopadhyay

Somedays

A river wakes up in the body

And it breaks the bank

Anything that was safe, floats away

in the high tide

Somedays

So many waves arise in mind for love

And in that tsunami

All the livelihoods are washed away

Somedays

A crying for beauty

Fills the universe with the song of spring

Somedays

The river wakes up playing drums

And it wants to wake you up too

Spring-song also wants to say

Love me when I will not remain alive

Memories also come true somedays

English translator: Ujjal Ghosh

এক এক দিন

সৌমিত্র চট্টোপাধ্যায়

এক এক দিন

একটা নদী জেগে ওঠে এই দেহটার মধ্যে

কূল ভেঙে দেয়

নিরাপদ যা কিছু ছিল খরস্রোতে ভাসে

এক এক দিন

ভালোবাসার জন্য মনে এত ঢেউ ওঠে

সেই সুনামিতে

হাট-বাজার কাছারি-দপ্তর সব ভেসে যায়

এক এক দিন

সুন্দরের জন্য হাহাকার

আকাশ বাতাস বসন্তের গানে ভরিয়ে দেয়

এক এক দিন

নদী জেগে ওঠে ডমরু বাজিয়ে

তোমারও ঘুম ভাঙাতে চায়

বসন্তের গানও সেদিন বুঝি বলতে চায়

যেদিন থাকব না সেদিনও ভালোবেসো

স্মৃতিও এক এক দিন সত্যি হয়ে ওঠে

ΚΑΠΟΙΕΣ ΗΜΕΡΕΣ

Soumitra Chattopadhyay

Κάποιες ημέρες

Ένα ποτάμι ξυπνά στο σώμα

Και σπάει την όχθη

Οτιδήποτε ήταν ασφαλές, παρασύρεται

στην πλημμυρίδα 

Κάποιες ημέρες

Σηκώνονται κύματα στο μυαλό γι' αγάπη

Και σ' αυτό το τσουνάμι

Όλα τα προς το ζην απομακρύονται

Κάποιες ημέρες

Μια κραυγή για ομορφιά

Γεμίζει το σύμπαν με το τραγούδι της άνοιξης

Κάποιες ημέρες

Το ποτάμι ξυπνάει κτυπώντας ρυθμικά τα ντραμς

Και θέλει να σας ξυπνήσει όλους

Το τραγούδι της άνοιξης να σας πει

Αγάπα με όταν πεθάνω

Κάποια μέρα οι αναμνήσεις ζωντανεύουν.

Greek translators:

Ujjal Ghosh & Despina Avgustinaki

সৌমিত্র চট্টোপাধ্যায়ের প্রয়াণে বিনম্র শ্রদ্ধাঞ্জলি।

A HUMBLE TRIBUTE TO INTERNATIONAL BENGALI-ACTOR-POET SOUMITRA CHATTOPADHYAY (19.01.1935 — 15.11.2020).

Saswati Sanyal poems, Translated by Sourjya Roy

 Saswati Sanyal

Four poems

1.

Piranha

You emerged from the deepest sea.

I took you as quiet, nonchalant.

In your fins, I have seen slight twirls.

You can call it a slip out of the blue.

Then suddenly you jumped on me. 

Waves broke the silence of the sea. 

Sharp and piercing they were.

My salt-drenched body 

Lay flat under you

Not flinching, not crying in protest.

Now what remains 

Are bare sand ribs of trust,

Shards of glass, and an unkempt sundial.

The fiercest fish has left my maiden flesh 

Scarred.

With broken dreams.

2.

Beloved

Long back,

I was in love 

With one or two Bengali lads.

Some used to read Shakti's poems.

Others used to quote

Nabarun.

Some used to rhyme in our get together.

Some relied on parodies.

Black frame, thick glass.

I wonder who dusted the dusts 

Nestled in the deeps of their curls?

Their frames had male ego

Embossed on them.

None of them were good looking.

Neither they ever went to gym .

Words used to lurk 

From the corners of their fingers.

Pains of hushed words were lying dead 

On the tram-line.

And a bit further,

Was lying the dead poet.

Slowly the lens forgot

The aura of the city.

Sad lips, tram tickets, cigarettes

Glow worms lost their ways.

No one comes anymore.

Up and down the reading room strolls 

J. K. Rowling .

Lovers die. They are muggles. They are natives.

And time dimmed the lights on the writing table.

Words have no magic now.

Words had grown somber and silent.

Long back,

I was in love 

With Bengali poems.

3.

Electra 

I have heard that

Once I was addicted 

To my mother's milk.

It was difficult to keep me away

From it.

Now the sight of milk

Makes me puke.

By holding my nose, 

Keeping my mouth shut

I suppress that urge.

But like a strict father,

You make me drink a glass full of milk

Each morning.

But this tale is of the morn.

During night, a different story unfurls.

In the dark someone sings a lullaby

To make you fall asleep.

And a different you wakes up,

Climbs on to me,

Holds my breasts tight in his hand,

Readies himself to strike anytime.

To taste a changing me, 

Full of milk.

Who has no sway over her

Golden nectar.

The arduous hours pass.

Then the last few dark hours, I spend

Listening to the cries of a pregnant cow.

4.

Theorem

The legend says, 

From the sea, Varuna will rise

To meet the maiden.

But no one knows 

Where the man got lost

After the tipsy third wave,

Holding whose hand,

The woman dived

In the deep water.

Is '3' going to lead us

To some mourning mathematics?

Does it stand for the fusion

Of salt and poison,

Churned from the triangle 

Of a woman's vagina

Where men immerse themselves

To emerge as gods?

Translated by Sourjya Roy

Saswati Sanyal is a Bengali poetess. Her published works include 'Brail e Lekha Bivrantisamuha', a book for which she was awarded 'Shakti Chattopadhyay Sammanana' by Bangla Academy.