Two Poems by Sankha Ghosh
Translated by Ankush Pal
Crowd
Stoop down, mister!
Curl up and get down, mister!
Don't you have eyes? Can't you see?
Stoop and bow, stoop and bow.
Oh Lord, how much should I stoop
standing amidst the crowd?
Am I on par with myself
in the bazaar or when I am alone?
Road
No one makes way for you, craft your own road.
Hey, mister, you seem to be fanciful.
Got down, holding the specs.
Got down, swirling the stairs.
The world seems to swirl and fall apart.
Oh, I want to return, but how will I?
One road, two roads, three roads, no roads.
No one makes way for you, craft your own road.
One road or two roads,
two roads or one road.
No one makes way for you, craft your own road.
