Poem -18 (5.2)

 Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 5, Number 2. November 2022. ISSN: 2581-7094

Animikh Patra (poet) with translations by Souradeep Roy and Animikh Patra

The sound of a pigeon's flight (“Payra Orar Shobde”) by Animikh Patra

--- Translated by Souradeep Roy


When I hear a pigeon’s flight a window thrusts open in my mind. As if the mind is a big house with a square inside. A few birds enter. I pull the horizon back into my mind as this happens. A lovely, bright sunset falls all over me; in the old room from my school, feathers fly, waltz into the room, and fall on the ground. In that moment, I am one with the horizon and go out with my birds.


I look like a magnificent magician

I vanish my identity in front of several eyes with a trick



Wild Beast (Baatil Shwapad)

--- Translated by Animikh Patra


I am an abandoned beast

I have eaten up half the fruit of life

Roamed in many forms through the jungles of humans

Stripes of my body wither away each time I mate

The drudgery of jobs has bitten me here and there like an insect

Old, gummy and blunt a beast I am.

I search for my mane in older photographs

My wild side dies out, I mix into a crowd of mundane people

Not dusk, but in between day and night

a crater is still seen, where you may lose your mind


I am an abandoned beast

I decide to drop the other half of fruit into that crater   



 Inside Dreams (“Shopner Bhetore”) by Animikh Patra

--- Translated by Souradeep Roy and the poet


Having gone too far inside a dream

I am now standing in front of the dream’s house


I see it is not like a multicoloured compact prism of poems

Rather, it’s a mansion where life is decorated in floor after floor

Memory like a cat roams inside and meows smell, touch

as if I have bloomed there like an epic book


How will I read such a book?

And how will I remain alive on this mortal world from now on?

If we enter a dream’s house

how can we exit the dream?


I was thinking of all of this,

and, on noticing that I was slowly moving towards a story,


returned to poetry



Hilly (Pahari)

--- Translated by Animikh Patra


I have come to mountain in winter

And resolved the warning of an easy riddle

I see the bloom of pomegranate-cloud

Arrogance of language, its tested wings

On every hair-pin turn

Query’s irregular arm

falls from the edge


Interliminal Encounters: Indian and Australian writers in po(i)etic dialogue, eds Amelia Walker and Aden Burg