Saileswar Ghosh's poem LAST COPULATION ( Translation of 'Shesh Sahobas' )

Men will die within human being's love
                         a man erasing his money
                 a woman would throw her waist ornament in water
is there any meaning of our seas ?
                 child's cry, beggar's smile, prisoner's wish
suffers more after freed
20 or 25 years I also will have to use my sex organ
                              will have to wipe off forehead's sweat
will have to pick up on shoulder gay God's festoon
will have to listen to victory song, will have to dole out wellfare's
                                                                        paddy or silver
will have to see negotiation of price is there between brother
                                                                               and sister
my life does not light up like electric bulb in a dark room
there is no further childhood, no hereditary judgement of father
                    palm joined like judgement seeker--
         7 billion birth God's evasion Varaha Avatara
                     coitus flower between my thighs
                             I also love this way
                                          live life
           die like this
since last copulation never happens nightmare remain as truth.

Saileswar Ghosh's poem FROM 6 TO 7 ( Translation of '6 Thekey 7 Er Dikey' )

When the bell tolls at Cathedral church at my personal pulpit
                                           mast arises
with the sound of birth empire's stone iron turns to dust
my memory befuddles when I place my hand on lovers breast
when love is destroyed in Chowringhee Hotel at Santhal village
                             sun of aboriginals go down
when flowers of secret garden are thrown to God
                           explodes like hand bomb
a dainty beggar like the last century's king had told me
                                about his dreams
shrieks of victory procession appears to me like vanquished 
                                                                                mourning
at 5 in afternoon the super market attracts me like forbidden
                                                              sex organ
                                  no sound in airconditioned bathroom
                                               no human purchaser
                              no water picture of childhood
one night's begum who could not recognize me
                directs me to 7 No house instead of 6.

Malay Roychoudhury's Drama NONMANMAN ( Translation of 'Napungpung' )

                         [ Voice of Jesus Christ : He who is not with me is against me ]
[ Completely dark stage.
Howls of jackal.
Crickets and venomous snakes hiss.
Sounds of heavy boots, stops, walks, stops.
Sudden flashes of strong light. On the left boxers' ring, a little higher, ringed by coconut husk rope; hings from ceiling boxers' dummy or a bagful for training in boxing. Within the ring, on the wall of the stage, headless pink torso of woman, from shoulder to thigh. Torso looks as if made of wax but is actually made of wood. The breasts of the torso may be opened and close like a lid holding its nipples. Torso talks through its teats or through its vagina in male or female voices or of animals.
On the right side there is a commode. Red coloured water inside commode.
Completely dark stage again.
National anthems of all countries of the world, past or present, are heard. Armpit blowing sound of all cultivators of the world is heard. Victory band of all world armies are heard. Sound of nose blowing of all nurses of the world are heard.  From vagina hole of the torso a strong red searchlight flashes like a knife. 
Completely dark stage again. 
Strong sunlight on stage.
Yalam enters stage.
Yalam is completely naked.
Sometimes when Yalam dislikes obscenity he wears cricket players abdomen guard. From the sides of Yalam's abdomen guard his testicles are protruding from which golden and silvery long hair touches the floor. Yalam grows a jackal's tail during spring to avoid mosquitoes. He has boxer's gloves in both hands. Yalam goes to the commode and sits thereon, starts thinking with his palm on his cheek.]

Torso : Where were you till now ? Where were you till now ? Where were you till now ?
Yalam : No--I mean--just--as--
Torso : How much can you recline ? How much can you recline ? How much can you recline ?
[ Yalam enters ring and like a baby goat starts jumping around in it. He bows to all four sides.]
Yalam : Practice--
Torso : Clock and tiffin box. Clock and tiffin box. Clock and tiffin box.
[ Yalam starts practicing boxing. In various ways. Sometimes does speed boxing and punches very quickly, sometimes slowly, in air. Circles the dummy bag hanging up and makes postures. Suddenly he tries to punch the dummy bag. The bag goes up. The punch is missed. Yalam goes to a corner with his tongue he starts panting. ]
Yalam : Practice again.
Torso : Phooooh !
Yalam : Let me try.
[ The bag comes down. Yalam practices speed boxing in air. Redies himself to hit the boxer's bag. Suddenly Torso's left side teat's cap falls off. A hairy hand comes out of the hollow teat. The hand slaps Yalam on his cheek. Yalam fall on the ground at a distance. The hairy hand disappears into Torso's teats. ]
Tosro : Get up.
[ Yalam stands on his feet. Honey  trickles  out from two sides of his lips.He picks up the teat cover from the floor and slowly walks up to Torso. Peeps through the teat hole in search of someone.]
Yalam : Anybody there ? Please listen. Shall I put this thing at the proper place ?
[Right side cap of Torso's teat falls off. A stick comes out of the teat hole and beats Yalam on his head. Yalam falls on the floor head down. ]
Torso : Bloody illiterate.
[ Yalam stands up with two teat caps in both hands. From corner of his mouth costly unadulterated butter oozes out.]
Yalam : Shit !
[ Complete darkness on stage. Only blue romantic light streams out of Torso's teat holes and vagina. Light on stage. Yalam is absent from stage.]
Torso : Love is hundred percent benzedrine dabbling dear dear.
[ Limping Yalam enters stage. Tail bandaged. Drinks red water from the commode. Enters ring, picks up Torso's teats and fits them on Torso's breasts. Bows and salutes on four sides. Punches in air around the boxer's bag. Misses all punches. Limps and walks back to the commode and sits thereon. Places his hand on cheek and becomes a philosopher. ]
Yalam: Arrrrt is that--four syllables-- no no--five syllables--please take a ladle of lentil--no no---word count--[ suddenly there are strange sounds from wings, somewhat like someone farting and shitting]--happy bye baby--so it is final now--no no--in meters--[ sounds of farting pissing shitting from wings]--we have to keep faith--the rhymes have been perfect [ sound of farting pissing shitting]--whom shall we include--dear Yalam put on your socks and get ready--quick--search--Om Shantih--Oum Shantih--Ong shanty--navel oh peace--what a bad condition the hands are in after birth--no no a ladle of lentil--no no eight syllables [ sounds of pissing farting shitting ] bluff I would stay this bluffer night--
[ Suddenly sound of breaking glass utensils and simultaneously the stage plunges into dark.
Completely dark stage.
Lectures of all world leaders on stage.
Howls of female foxes after happy corpse eating festival.
Sounds of hair cutting scissors.
Whistle of forthcoming storm.
Sound of applying oil bath to a skirt wearing gypsy girl's thighs inside a tent.
From Torso's vagina sharp searchlight searches for Yalam. Searchlight focuses on all sides. Here to there searchlight searches for Yalam. Searchlight dances ti find out Yalam. Searchlight searches for Yalam only. ]
                         Curtain drops.

Basudeb Dasgupta's poem/story/critique AIRCONDITIONED GOD ( Translation of 'Airconditiond Debota' )

In the dangerous kingdom of silence is our raft floating
hundreds of corpses are visible on the shoreline
burned in sunlight for long they are deformed
those whose life had vibrated till now
in happiness and grief electric current
whose life once while vibrating 
from desire to desire
those lives had flown

In this dangerous kingdom of silence is our raft floating
burning sun overhead
on right is golden colour in the river
green carpet on sandy strip peeps
a naked man is seated on that strip all alone
seeing the raft he jumps in water
waves his hand while being washed away by tide
as is wants to say something
know one knows where he drowns in the heavy current
with half ton biscuit and a few saris 
this small raft floats downstream

Dark hall-room
lavender fragrance touches nose
many men are running this way trampling corpses of relatives
jumps over for a fistful of food
fights for it with each other
dies
hundreds of incorporeal species in electric light
though goods for charity are not sufficient
terrible dearth of vehicles
and in order to reach the distressed area the administration
never finds a way out
in the absence of diggers between one to one & half thousand
were buried in one pit Sir
payment was Rupees two per day
news further says that four persons in Bhootnath's house
died when the house fell over them when they were sleeping
though his state of affairs was more or less same
happiness was not meagre in that tiny house
today beneath open sky small time truck driver Bhoothnath
stoops with his head between his knees
the Sub Divisional Officer said.
Twenty rupees more could not be given today from poverty alleviating fund
because the person who has the keys to the cupboard has not come.

Sky is crowded with vultures---air is polluted---on twentieth floor signal---cyclone forecast---just now the relief boat has been looted---where there is no death the police hawks---National Highway No 34 is washed away---no piece of land is available so that help could be dropped---an insane girl is beating a tinplate and singing on the runway---missiles would be installed near the capital---quick feet someone has gone to have a nap at the hotel---bullet has been found from someones holed skull---youngest among the rebels was of eight years---our momentary humanity and lifelong crying is drowning in soft mud up to waist---presently inside the ring two bison are  fighting for sexual supremacy---wastes of turbulent sounds---pet piglet has pissed on beautiful lady's nylon---our mother came out with her dead child from jute field---a few nylon petticoat might be the reason for fire---vultures crowd the sky---in every civilization's cupboard a few skulls have been preserved---relief air planes propeller is hit by vulture---far away an insane girl is singing beating her tinplate---she will also die now---

I have covered my ears with both hands---I do not want to listen to outside sound---I have covered my ears with both hands---I am not able to listen to words uttered by me---therefore death--

You see the water turned yellow colour when you go for bath---I have been kept in the lowest hole---you have kept me away from my relatives---I do not have the power to go out---will you perform magic for the dead---will the ghosts come out and sing songs of prayer for you---Do the dead feel your mercy inside their grave---is your magic visible only in darkness---will your religion be ever known in this country of oblivion---our flesh do not have health---we do not have peace in our bones---dread has uprooted us---here everybody wipes his face and says---I have not committed any sinful act---

Raja Sarkar's poem SOME BLACK FLOWERS AND THEIR SORE ( Translation of 'Kichhu Kalo Phool O Taar Khato' )

There there beyond dawn's window insolvent gambler's sky
and here is that bed---
floating balloon in heavy air ! Earthly life...
One or two men fly towards sun after touching my body
but stll they have their roots in bed
mingled with body in dawn's bed 
in slices fresh sunlight--
Songs of which life is being sung ? In immobile silence
which cub's cry enters home cut in pieces ?
...incoherence of trance settles down, and
heavy sighs pick up one-grub men
towards some mystery....this starry imagination !
The life which is between death's calm and pain
at that moment extends two arms and descends
in this scaly body wherein during this journey
some black flowers and their sores were allowed to bloom

Karunanidhan Mukhopadhyay's story ABOUT BIRTHDEATH ( Translation of 'Janmomrityu Samparkey' )

          My only son Arok died today at 6:45. Broncho Pneumonia. I crossed the river and took him to other side. On the sand spread. Sat at a place and brooded for a long time. Then I tied a heavy stone with his body and dropped him in the middle of Ganges river.
I had to spend two hours in search of a stone.

          I have returned home. My wife is crying incessantly. I do not have any power to erase human sentiments.

          Today there was plenty of time during afternoon.

          I was born at Kashi. Dad at that time was with Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose's group of  Indian National Army. When I was of two and half years Dad took me to Rangoon. Dad left Indian National Army and joined the police. About ten years in Rangoon. Thereafter siren, blackouts, newspaper headlines, hospital. Directly back to Khidirpur on a ship. From Khidirpur to Kashi again.

          Came to know that Dad has married a Burmese women. From then on against society, against culture, against myself fight goes on. Could not get educated. Dad's monetary help stopped when at class ten. That is the time I started to fall. Help! Help !! Help!!! 

          During childhood I loved to paint. I was the first boy in class. Everything became jumbled up once I entered the world of drawing. Hired a room at Kashi and opened my own studio. Looking at my paintings people said I was insane. Mother sister and other members of the house called me mad and kicked me out. I was the eldest son of my family. Went to Marriage Registrar and married a Kayastha caste girl. I am not allowed to enter home because I became a Non-Brahmin. 

          Nobody is there for me. Nobody is there for me.


          

Shakti Chattopadhyay's poem Border Proposal ( Translation of 'Simantoprostab' )

A beggar boy had loved to like food
and examined
paddy plants spread in moonlight, at the roots of paddy
like silent waterfilled butter
glossy puffed up paddy in earth's simplicity
will the paddy turn into boiled rice ?
Silent God may talk
iron may melt
like dorsal women on the world wood plank ?
But the beggar boy had loved to like food.
Loved to like, many philosophy in life
even beyond life, intoxicated in cannabis
in life without paddy, without woman, without moonlight there  is    something above.
God is there above all to torture the wayfarer
God is there above all the wandering ascetic
God is there above all for human beings
busy in order to give two bowls of boiled rice to the beggar boy
contemporary like grass, bigger than bus
to carry every and all.

Beggar's good boy was shaved head many bad boys
they did not bother about love
they are also alive they are also clean
there are good fruits on earth like gooseberry
beggar's good boy bad boy has fallen away from beggar father's belly
with amazing disorder fact on earth is now peace for China, liberty depressed
etcetera  wait near war
stop all kinds of war
let natural deaths die
let us die, let us go with our known death
arrange the marriage of Kennedy with Khrushchev
do not allow them to abort their womb's bomb-boys
let their bomb-girls die in their womb
let their be life aborting marriage anniversary each year
if Khrushchev Kennedy is not there will there be progenitress ever?
Then stop violence megaton war firefall
otherwise the hungry will tear off flesh according to requirement.
From the party of snow hyenas disturbed India's border  
lack of religion's red flag with body's limping hunger
and watching  painted hunger drawn on snow hyenas' eyes of women's cheek devouring 
Chief Minister, send a posse of Hungry poets
they don't not know how to write, knows extra-mundane methods of how to swallow 
they would eat the entire border and discuss in Coffee House
probably there is not much difference in modern poetry and prose
marriages take place in Bangladesh at 30 minutes past 3
gift leather garland of Bentink Street to Jyoti Basu
how was Soumitra's acting in China Expedition
why are not people ready to accept poetry just like boiled rice
will they accept when war is over ? Even beggars are able to understand poetry
why would you not understand Dear Professor, Chief Minister Sen?

( Published by the poet himself in a Hungry Bulletin during border war with China in 1962 )