A darkness so deep
That even one’s own shadow cannot be seen,
Now feels incredibly comforting.
Dreams come,
Indifferent to whether it is
The new moon or the full moon night.
On the roof, the pigeons
While pecking at broken grains of rice,
Etch a faint, hazy picture.
Sometimes, that image appears clear,
Sometimes, it comes alive and terrifies.
It places a condition of absolute silence
Upon all hidden, dark secrets.
The promises that departed saying,
“Look… I am coming back right away,”
Never return.
Those who do return,
Get lost along the chaotic paths of daily chores
And completely forget.
While bidding farewell to spring from the cycle of seasons,
She had asked for a handful of Abir (colored powder).
Because I failed to give it to her,
The month of Phalguna remains upset to this day.
Just now,
The feet that were turned back
From the upper step to the lower step,
Ask—
Whose picture is that…?
What is the secret behind it…?
The feet that were advancing forward,
Gradually begin to retreat.
The silent, answerless lips
Along with the helpless body,
And its innocent shadow,
Slowly dissolve and vanish into the darkness.
— Ratnamaya Tripathy
Adhyayana, Balangir
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Original Odia : Ratnamaya Tripathy
Translated by : Dr. Khyatimaya Tripathy
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