তুষ্টি ভট্টাচার্য

 

Poem by Tusti Bhattacharya 

Spectacles 

Translation By Subha Addhya

1

Taking off lenses from myopic
You see eyes
From blurred backdrop
Folks are going away bit by bit

Picture comes with the stroke of lines
Another sight comes by holding hands of glass
All these are belongings, all these are external, yet
Lens don't perceive even after seeing

After rubbing the lens, becomes evident a bit -
Many more to see
Now lens will see fairly

2

What does lens see?
Does lens see at all? Does it see life moving on?
It recognizes only the rhythm of still images
You came from the reverse side, and
Scratched on lens vertically -
Lens doesn't wake up
Bending of lens sees only eyes
Eyes are the lens actually, lens has no eyes

3

Who goes on the further side leaving the lens?
No eyes in that side, there is orphanage of lens
There are lenses who pretend to be challenged, minor, beggar
That old harbor less lady of that room
Scrubs sprinkle from frame in leisure.
The broken frame is searching for pestle
Like how myopic eyes search for a lens.

4

Keep lenses near your eyes
Not so much that it lean to each other
Not so far-off that you can smell off, are well

Eyes and you
Tale of you and your lens
Your clairvoyance grows like this

Black glass of the day, white one of the night
Confuses day and night gradually
Yet to call day as diurnal and night as nocturnal –
Isn’t your bad habit?