What if I were to see her, twenty years hence?
Once again, twenty years hence-
Maybe by the paddy sheaths
In the month of Kartik-
At a time for the crows to roost,
And the yellow river to flow ever so softly,
Through the reeds and grass by the fields.
Paddies are gone, harvest is done.
Nothing to rush about;
The duck’s nest loses a straw,
The bird’s nest loses a straw,
The night reposes in Munia’s place
Soaked in wintry dews.
Twenty piles onto twenty— brings lives to an edge;
What if suddenly I get to see you in a country lane;
The moon will appear behind the trees in the middle of the night,
Carrying in its mouth a bunch of narrow branches of—
Shirish or berries,
Jhau or mangoes;
Are you going to be in my mind —twenty years hence?
Twenty piles onto twenty, brings lives to an edge -
What if then life brings together - you and I?
By then the owl must have crawled across the fields—
Under the brooding gloom of babla trees,
Through the windows of Banyan.
Where can it find shelter
From the kite that stealthily stops winging like the drooping of eyelids?
My golden, golden kite, stealing the dewdrops alright,
What if in that moistened mist, I get to see you, twenty years hence?
Shamsad Mortuza is the Pro VC and the Head of the Department of English & Humanities at the Univerisity of Liberal Arts, Bangladesh.