This is a loose translation of my recent Bengali original.
It’s been quite long
That the dim light of the dusk weeps with me.
My thoughts remain
At the 9.30 hours of the southern windy roof-top;
At the tram-lanes, buses, metros,
At the footpaths of Chowringhee.
It’s not possible to run back home.
Even the happiest hours are hung upon by a gloom,
And the distance hangs upon, as if sincerely.
I now count my days to come to you–
Not many are left, a few, a little more, in a hurry…