আমারই চেতনার রঙে পান্না হল সবুজ

আমি, শ্যামলী / ১

 The Self 

It is my senses which colour
Emerald green and ruby red.
I look at the sky --
Light appears;
I gaze at a rose with praise --
It becomes beautiful.
You say, " It's philosophy,
No poetic utterance",
I say, "It's truth,
And so, it's poetry.
It's my pride,
Pride on behalf of humanity,
Pride being the canvas of the Artist Creator".
The philosopher chants at every breath,
" No, no, no.
It isn't emerald, ruby, light, nor rose,
Neither I, nor you."
On the other hand ,'tis the Infinite
Who endeavours His confinement
In human limitations: that's my 'Self'.
Out of this folding mystery of 'Self'
Light manifests in dark,
Forms appear, feelings are born,
Negation changes into affirmation
By some magic touch --
With shades and colours, happiness and sorrow.
Don't call it philosophy,
I am full of mirth ,
Creating the universal self ,
With a brush in hand ,
Paint in the palette.
The wise say,
'The old moon with a hard , cunning smile
Creeps towards the earth
Like the Death-incarnate,
It will exert a tremendous pull some day
On the seas and the mountains .
A big naught will prevail .
That page in the history of the earth
Will swallow all mathematics of day and night.
Time-honoured deeds of man
Will lose all pretensions and immortality,
Human history will be smeared
With the darkest ink of eternal Night.
The eyes of the parting humanity
Will snatch away all colours,
Their minds cast away all feelings,
Waves of force-fields will fill the sky ,
But there will be no light ,
Like fingers of the player without his lyre
Moving fast without music . "
'The prosaic Creator will be alone
In the colourless heaven ,
Busy in mathematics of expressionless reality."
Then , throughout this vast universe,
Here, and in remote corners
Of millions of stars and galaxies,
nowhere will there be heard,
"You are beautiful", "I love you" !
Will the Creator start His endeavour
Once again for ages? --
Will He chant at the dusk of destruction
- speak, speak ! inculcate,
Say, "You are beautiful"
Say, " I love you ".

Translated by Subrata Majumdar,
1961

Original published as Ami in Shyamali / 1, 1936