Sometimes I feel lonely. But that never seems depressing to me. Loneliness somehow let me create my own thoughts, own words about my own world. This evening was something like that. I was listening songs, Rabindrasangeet of course.
In English which can be translated as,
I was in my sleep when you came and garlanded me with your all pains. In the morning clouds there is the melancholy tune of our separation. You came silently and made me embraced with the darkness of estrangement.
The lines, as always do, touched me a lot. This song is from a dance drama 'Shaap-mochan' by Tagore. The story tells about two lovers who got estranged due to the curse of Indra. However, they found themselves but could not find their heavenly existence. The man turned ugly and the lady could not accept that. But the love enters in her heart silently and she found her heavenly love in that ugly man, she found his beauty not in his outer look, but in his heart full of love for her.
After sometime, I took a book by Shakti Chattopadhyay. There was a poem named 'Nisshobdochorone Prem' (The Silence of Love).
The same thoughts I found here. Love came with silent foot steps, crossing the doorstop. There was no darkness anymore inside or outside of the room. There was light, there was good, and there was something that never had been - a man was waiting for the beauty.
This is the word, beauty. We all want it, for ourselves. We want to be beautiful, we want beautiful lover, beautiful life, beautiful children. But ever did we think about it? Beauty does not have its own definition. Does it?
কখন দিলে পরায়ে স্বপনে ব্যথার মালা , বরণমালা ।
প্রভাতে দেখি জেগে অরুণ মেঘেবিদায়বাঁশরি বাজে অশ্রুগালা ।গোপনে এসে গেলে , দেখি নাই আঁখি মেলে ।আঁধারে দুঃখডোরে বাঁধিলে মোরে ,ভূষণ পরালে বিরহবেদন-ঢালা ॥
I was in my sleep when you came and garlanded me with your all pains. In the morning clouds there is the melancholy tune of our separation. You came silently and made me embraced with the darkness of estrangement.
The lines, as always do, touched me a lot. This song is from a dance drama 'Shaap-mochan' by Tagore. The story tells about two lovers who got estranged due to the curse of Indra. However, they found themselves but could not find their heavenly existence. The man turned ugly and the lady could not accept that. But the love enters in her heart silently and she found her heavenly love in that ugly man, she found his beauty not in his outer look, but in his heart full of love for her.
After sometime, I took a book by Shakti Chattopadhyay. There was a poem named 'Nisshobdochorone Prem' (The Silence of Love).
নিঃশব্দ চরণে প্রেম এসেছিল দুয়ার মাড়িয়ে -
ঘরে ও ঘরের বাইরে তখন ছিলো নাওন্ধকার
আলো ছিলো, ভালো ছিলো - ছিলো তা, যা থাকেনা কখনো
একটি মানুষ ছিল সুন্দরের অপেক্ষায় বসে -...
This is the word, beauty. We all want it, for ourselves. We want to be beautiful, we want beautiful lover, beautiful life, beautiful children. But ever did we think about it? Beauty does not have its own definition. Does it?
No comments:
Post a Comment