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“God will come barefoot
looking for his lost shoe
eaten up by pseudo sons
waiting with charts of Obituary
at every unreal heart-scope
while volcanoes gather around me
( Selected Poems of Malay Roychoudhury )”
―
looking for his lost shoe
eaten up by pseudo sons
waiting with charts of Obituary
at every unreal heart-scope
while volcanoes gather around me
( Selected Poems of Malay Roychoudhury )”
―
“From uncoiled wings of the burning swan
after sea of blood was born out of green caterpillar
that skin sheared moon from cloud’s underbelly
ordered waves to abolish horoscopes on crabs’ breasts
.
On the evergreen epiglotis of lotus full to the brim
the pollen fiddling honey bee waved her double scarf
searched for drunk village of pride red beating crowd
humming songs sleeping side by side of worried distance ( From 'Selected Poems' 1961 - 2004”
―
after sea of blood was born out of green caterpillar
that skin sheared moon from cloud’s underbelly
ordered waves to abolish horoscopes on crabs’ breasts
.
On the evergreen epiglotis of lotus full to the brim
the pollen fiddling honey bee waved her double scarf
searched for drunk village of pride red beating crowd
humming songs sleeping side by side of worried distance ( From 'Selected Poems' 1961 - 2004”
―
“The Light
I get a thud kick in pitch dark thick on belly and tumble
Hands tied at the back on damp floor shack to humble
Lights flash on face eyes blind in case I spin
Then lights go off a boot or two rough on chin
I feel blood drip snail down the lips in trickle
The glare blinks on and off and on and off in ripple
A hot metal rod scalds hard breast broad to snip flesh warm
The lights hem in piercing-thin a ruthless swarm
Red eyes get shut in blinding rut my vision erode
Final blackout in grisly rout in ecliptic node
I prepare my grit to encounter the hit as a fightback code.
--Malay Roychoudhury”
―
I get a thud kick in pitch dark thick on belly and tumble
Hands tied at the back on damp floor shack to humble
Lights flash on face eyes blind in case I spin
Then lights go off a boot or two rough on chin
I feel blood drip snail down the lips in trickle
The glare blinks on and off and on and off in ripple
A hot metal rod scalds hard breast broad to snip flesh warm
The lights hem in piercing-thin a ruthless swarm
Red eyes get shut in blinding rut my vision erode
Final blackout in grisly rout in ecliptic node
I prepare my grit to encounter the hit as a fightback code.
--Malay Roychoudhury”
―
“Motorbike - Poem by Malay Roy Choudhury
I am on motorbike yezdi yamaha
when flanked by horizon gallop backwards through sand blizzard
tinsel clouds explode at my feet without helmet
and speed-split air at eighty
in midsummer simoon
each sound-cart recedes
onrushing lorries flee in a flash
No time to brood but Yes
accident expected anytime
may even turn into a junkheap in a drought-nursed field.
Translation of Bengali original 'Motor Cycle”
―
I am on motorbike yezdi yamaha
when flanked by horizon gallop backwards through sand blizzard
tinsel clouds explode at my feet without helmet
and speed-split air at eighty
in midsummer simoon
each sound-cart recedes
onrushing lorries flee in a flash
No time to brood but Yes
accident expected anytime
may even turn into a junkheap in a drought-nursed field.
Translation of Bengali original 'Motor Cycle”
―
“Preparation - Poem by Malay Roy Choudhury
Who claims I'm ruined? Because I'm without fangs and claws?
Are they necessary? How do you forget the knife
plunged in abdomen up to the hilt? Green cardamom leaves
for the buck, art of hatred and anger
and of war, gagged and tied Santhal women, pink of lungs shattered
by a restless dagger?
Pride of sword pulled back from heart? I don't have
songs or music. Only shrieks, when mouth is opened
wordless odour of the jungle; corner of kin & sin-sanyas;
Didn't pray for a tongue to take back the groans
power to gnash and bear it. Fearless gunpowder bleats:
stupidity is the sole faith-maimed generosity-
I leap on the gambling table, knife in my teeth
Encircle me
rush in from tea and coffee plateaux
in your gumboots of pleasant wages
The way Jarasandha's genital is bisected and diamond glow
Skill of beating up is the only wisdom
in misery I play the burgler's stick like a flute
brittle affection of thev wax-skin apple
She-ants undress their wings before copulating
I thump my thighs with alternate shrieks: VACATE THE UNIVERSE
get out you omnicompetent
conchshell in scratching monkeyhand
lotus and mace and discuss-blade
Let there be salt-rebellion of your own saline sweat
along the gunpowder let the flint run towards explosion
Marketeers of words daubed in darkness
in the midnight filled with young dog's grief
in the sicknoon of a grasshopper sunk in insecticide
I reappear to exhibit the charm of the stiletto.
(Translation of Bengali poem 'Prostuti')”
―
Who claims I'm ruined? Because I'm without fangs and claws?
Are they necessary? How do you forget the knife
plunged in abdomen up to the hilt? Green cardamom leaves
for the buck, art of hatred and anger
and of war, gagged and tied Santhal women, pink of lungs shattered
by a restless dagger?
Pride of sword pulled back from heart? I don't have
songs or music. Only shrieks, when mouth is opened
wordless odour of the jungle; corner of kin & sin-sanyas;
Didn't pray for a tongue to take back the groans
power to gnash and bear it. Fearless gunpowder bleats:
stupidity is the sole faith-maimed generosity-
I leap on the gambling table, knife in my teeth
Encircle me
rush in from tea and coffee plateaux
in your gumboots of pleasant wages
The way Jarasandha's genital is bisected and diamond glow
Skill of beating up is the only wisdom
in misery I play the burgler's stick like a flute
brittle affection of thev wax-skin apple
She-ants undress their wings before copulating
I thump my thighs with alternate shrieks: VACATE THE UNIVERSE
get out you omnicompetent
conchshell in scratching monkeyhand
lotus and mace and discuss-blade
Let there be salt-rebellion of your own saline sweat
along the gunpowder let the flint run towards explosion
Marketeers of words daubed in darkness
in the midnight filled with young dog's grief
in the sicknoon of a grasshopper sunk in insecticide
I reappear to exhibit the charm of the stiletto.
(Translation of Bengali poem 'Prostuti')”
―
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