See, such a beautiful sparrow is
Chirping so poignantly today in American language at
Endless noontime! O sparrow,
In appearance you're just like the Bengali sparrows
Does this pale, foreign language of the whites suit
In your tongue, dear?
Rather come to me, I teach you
O sparrow: speak, speak Bengali.
Bengali, I've found
All its beauty
In the sound of river water, in the bicker of stream
In the eyes of hilsha and trout, in the verses of Gitabitan
And in the black hair wafting in the air of an ever familiar woman,
In her eyes and cheek.
O crow, the black crow! From where have you suddenly come
To this racist country? You know well, this land doesn't respect
Then why here? Why in a foreign land?
Go, if you can, fly to the land of Bengal
Where your silky-smooth-black wings suit better.
No complaint at all if you go to Africa,
Asia's sibling indeed – our brother
But what you're doing at my cornice!
What sort of awkward and ugly style? Why these cha-cha,
Twist, hula-hoop dances?
Don't you know Kathak or Kathakali dance?
Then you're an American citizen? O crow, you too?
But you completely look and sound like a Bengali
As black as koi and catfish.
O clouds, the cumulus clouds! Will you also deceive,
You, the traveler to the unknown?
We can't trust anyone in this unfriendly foreign land.
Still I say: if you can,
O glorified clouds, come down
More dense and deep, you come down in a stream of compassion
With the incessant downpour of Shravan month, my dear, beat This endless exile.