Thousands of corpses, wars
Rise towards the past
Peaks tipped with frost
Behind them the little houses sit
Their lights on
For the men they have lost
*
The last fatigue of hunger, salt, the last drop of sleep —
War, the last sport
Last-blood drips into the sky — gorged on blood
The sun a red clot
The bombed-out city, trees draped in flags —
In the evening, the cannons a blue cast
God’s messengers come out carrying balloons —
The day’s hunt over at last.
Translations from Joy Goswami, Selected Poems,translated by Sampurna Chattarji, Harper Perennial 2014.
Read more translations of the poet by Sampurna Chattarji here.
Hear Joy Goswami read his poems here.
Joy Goswami, a much-awarded Bengali poet, has been a consistent voice against violence, war and genocide, and has published over 50 titles, which include poetry, critical essays and novels.
Sampurna Chattarji is a poet, fiction-writer and translator with 14 books to her credit, the latest being Space Gulliver: Chronicles of an Alien (HarperCollins, 2015).
