A certain man
The man has no fame or position
and yet merely thinking of him all day and night
people are struck in sheer admiration.
The man has no place anywhere to stay
on wayside dirt his auspicious hours are spent
in his hand a bobbin of fancy he holds in sway.
The man has no concern with anyone
neither the village chief, nor the owner of the mill,
and yet sleep comes easily to none
on the man’s shoulder a strange mynah perches still.
Many people say and so also do I
the man chews sunlight for his meal
and his favorite drink is the moonlight flooding the sky
he lights up a thousand lamps and then again
puts them off at his own sweet will.
Arrayed in a cloak of clouds, he wanders to and fro
down to the place where the gentries dwell
doesn’t get tired one bit in the hilly grotto
to the rapping on the door he responds as well.
And yet so many loudly protest
the man sleeps from sunrise to sunset
drawing the moon as a pillow close to his chest.
tr. from the Bengali by Shankar Sen