When the boats
and the shores become tired of the water
the paths while passing through the hamlets of the settlements
suddenly get crushed under the range of a highway;
then you should assume
that your and my days, on this earth, have come to a close
and I have lost the last battle too!

With the aids that you sent in the form of prayers
and in the company of my own guardian words
in the ditch like a downhill path
waiting desperately for a futile effort to heal my wounds, and
trying to suck in oxygen from the radiating rays;
right in the middle of the battleground
the poems I wrote for you
and the diaries in which dreams of peace were written
have turned into coal-ash with the trees
that were fully laden with flowers,
before the ray attack,and
under whose shade I sat the last time
swallowing the pieces of hard dried roti.

If you notice
that the time has stopped all of a sudden
even before the evening prayer calls could become louder,
the day has prolonged; and
while peeping through the window
if you find that everything around has changed
then don’t remember me becoming suddenly uneasy
otherwise they
will reach me easily through the path of your heart
and will embalm me
as a mark of their victory.

And when instead of me
you see an alien animal-like creature
has reached your farmhouse gate,
then don’t be dazed
and open the gate furtively
and all those warm kisses
that you have kept safe for me
while touching them with the flashing lips of an alien wolf
don’t shed tears –
or else, the earth will be covered with a miasmic smoke forever, and
when the last gust of wind
while passing through the portico
decode my message to you by murmuring about
then please, don’t turn around to that wind
otherwise, that alien wolf will become alert
of the weakest part of your soul
and will gnash his machine like teeth in that same feeblest part
and listen!
before you submit to him completely
don’t wait for any other sign –
in the history of mankind
the death of love is the last ritual!

Translation by Bina Biswas