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Honeymoon: A poem

  • Published at 05:57 pm February 8th, 2020
Kolkata Street

City life in poetry

(Translated by Khademul Islam)

Short T-shirt.

When she raises her two hands over her head you can see her belly-button.

Lips of Benaresi saffron.

Terrific body.

Who was the one who named her—Honeymoon!


She doesn’t walk; dances.

Seems to be—wriggly darting fish!

In the wind a snappy rumba

Right left front back

Turns on all sides in the flick of an eyelash.

The dream of the skinny youth in the development next door

The cupped dream of the skinny youth next door

Setting the city on its ear—Honeymoon!

Amid the smell of burning tires

A three-brick stove, the arc of the flame

No sooner the handful of 

Unhusked cooked rice reaches the mouth

Than Kolkata’s footpaths clap and shout out—

                                                          Fantastic! Fantastic!

Khademul Islam is editor, Bengal Lights