I was there behind the glowing sun.

Wrapped in secret winds,

The unborn future of a dormant seed.

Veiled by vibrant butterfly wings

Perhaps it was me.

Perhaps it was me in the skies

When the clouds swam by.  

In boundless deserts,

My thirst buried in sand –

You never knew.

I was the name of the nameless text,

The untold desire of your desolate heart.

The slave legions in the Emperor’s kingdom – there I was.

You never knew.

I was the fragrance of wild blossoms.

I was captive

In a riot of grass and dewdrops.

You never felt – I was there in the essence of cryptic verses.

You never felt – I was there in the said and the unsaid. 

It was me

This is a loose translation of a Bengali poem “Ami Chhilam”, by Abhijit Debnath, originally published on the Prothom Alo Blog. Translated and published here with permission.