At the forest’s edge, near moonlight

In the midst of some mist

Had I not met her

I perhaps never would have known

That eyes speak, as do lips and brow

That insomnia has its own speech.

Perhaps never would have known

The divinity in a caress

With its own garland of words.

Strange!

To be a woman means

Deep waters beneath one’s navel

The ocean’s surge.

To be a woman means

A city in hell

A mysterious fragrance floating

Through the tumult of centuries.

But I say:

Woman means ties

Enchantment

The ethereal stamped on retinal walls.

Woman means silk-embroidered blue cushion

The doe grown to life by mountain-sides

The serenity on seeing the horizon all around.

Woman means

Shadows dangling in dazzling light

In whose womb

We are beings bright.

(Translated from Bengali: Farhad Ahmed)