SWARUPKATHI-2
Niloy Rafiq
In secret sorrow, the necklace trembles with fever
The weeping cloud draws the eye with its form
In the mind of creation, the house of peace collapses
The dream-dweller dissolves into the river Kaliganga.
The dream woven in a deft net remains unfinished
A new address forms in the ribs of the duck’s isle
Erase the artisan from the lost cover
Silently, the worshipped word becomes the script of the casuarina.
The rhythm-bound heart pulls toward green hills
On the road of art, a house of light is built
Thirst plays hide-and-seek in the dark with a rose
The shoreline’s artwork breathes mountain fragrance.
Translator: Jyotirmoy Nandy
SWARUPKATHI-1
Niloy Rafiq
In the garden of beauty, Swarupkathi glows—
A palace of verses, dancing with words,
Where flowers of mystic melody blaze
In the forest cave of time’s peddler.
On a night of art, in Nilachal’s hush,
Nature converses in quiet tones,
A cloud-maiden waits at the gaze’s estuary,
Love’s touchstone stirs a storm in the sea—
Yet joy voyages to Sonadia, the isle of love.
Beneath creation’s seedbed, poetry takes form,
Its face, the pole star of nature’s sky.
In the chariot’s procession, treasure lies hidden
Within the nectar-school’s enchanted heritage.
Translator : Jyotirmoy Nandy
…….
THE DIARY OF MASUD SHAFI
Niloy Rafiq
In tales, a staff-saint stumbles through falsehood,
Blind devotion rides the river in a reverse chariot.
The heritage of flowers adorns the heart’s home with trees—
On the far shore, you may glimpse the light of civilization.
In the artisan of weeds, a vast genius hides!
Waves of stolen dreams ripple through the breast of purity.
North to south, the casuarina sulks in silence—
Is the torn manuscript still missing from memory?
Masud Shafi, thirst unfinished,
Awakens the pole star in sky and mountain.
In slogans of light, the face meets life’s horizon—
Hand me the notebook of words, scented with reflection
Translator: Jyotirmoy Nandy
……
THE WINTER BIRD
Niloy Rafiq
I gaze, enchanted, as fragrance stirs nature’s courtyard—
Through deep forests, the winter bird glides,
Mist-veiled windows brim beside riverbanks,
Waves kiss the hills with a smile of misted delight.
In the green’s dancing form, a bird loses its way,
Each day, a restless soul calls to the land of memory.
At the fair of pure love, a word-farmer sows verses
On a winter-bitten morning, as a golden sun warms the Bakkhali’s shore.
In the spellbound gaze of trees, a procession of songs—
Unlatch the heart’s lock, let the unknown ferry arrive.
Translator : Jyotirmoy Nandy
