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- Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
- Path: sparky!uunet!uchinews!quads!moh2
- From: moh2@quads.uchicago.edu (Kateri/Mary Anne)
- Subject: Translated Bengali poem - Bhattarcharya
- Message-ID: <1992Dec23.203712.14878@midway.uchicago.edu>
- Sender: news@uchinews.uchicago.edu (News System)
- Reply-To: moh2@midway.uchicago.edu
- Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
- Date: Wed, 23 Dec 1992 20:37:12 GMT
- Lines: 29
-
- O great life
-
- O Great Life, it's no longer a matter of verse.
- Let tough, severe prose prevail,
- Erasing the grace of measure,
- The lilt of the lyric gone stale.
- Let the hammer of prose
- Relentlessly ring on the anvil.
- There's no need for the tenderness of poetry.
- Poetry, as of now, you are on holiday.
- In this regin of hunger,
- The earth is full of prose.
- Even the full moon seems a half-burned flat bread.
-
-
- - Sukanta Bhattacharya
-
- "1926-1947....A lyricist of force, passionately interested in
- political and social issues of the times, Sukanta inhis all too brief
- a life showed a remakable poetic range. He was a Marxist, but his
- concern for what is human seems to transcend ideology....from
- _Collected Works of Sukanta Bhattacharya_, Calcutta 1967"
-
- (translated by Ron D.K. Banerjee)
- --
- i thank you God for most this amazing
- day: for the leaping greenly spirits of the trees
- and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
- which is natural which is infinite which is yes - e.e.cummings
-