Imrul Choudhury
FROM MEMORY Indistinct memories of a meeting: in the market, near the Buddhist shrine . . . three white horses frolicked in the fields and you laughed like a lovely young girl . . . in the gentle February of nineteen sixtythree the chilled breeze blew, I found you like a fawn beside her mother; such mountains, seas and clouds I had never seen before, such beauty of nature . . . and then . . . many days passed . . . like arctic snow your wintry encampment followed while I discovered sunshine in collieries . . . everytime I hid my face in a towel, its gentle touch reminded me of you . . . I have lost your photograph; on my wall there is no photograph, not even that of a poet; the walls are like skies, the vast emptiness is mine . . . everytime I have quarrelled with memory, I have lost. (translated by Pritish Nandy)
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Revised: April 13, 1996