HOLUD MOLATER KOBITA / Mitul Dutta Yellow Poetries in the Covers

Unattended those children
Indebted to the flesh of turtle
Similar with the licking ants
In the heaps of sweet
I’ll rather pour some ice-cream
Into the mouth of some ancient curtain
And the musical holy chanting
And let the pathos that drums beat
Rolling towards the rotten time
I fail to count
The deference between your clock
And mine
A dead bell ringing
Time why so sharpening
Why a Dolphin rolling in and out
Inside my breasts
The day of first menstruation
Slapped by mother
I desperately frequent myself
Into your blues
Those approaching bathroom
With yellow covers
Those picking me up from the field
And molesting
And dragging me to merry-go-round
On their organs
The daughters in love
With their rapists
Learn the art of marrying their fathers
Their honey-petals floating in the drainage
Whether a condom has an asexual mind
Threatening the doom of my children
‘Excitement’ by the side of this word
Spring in bon-fire
Let him come in

[Translated by Rajarshi Chattopadhyay]