Draft of a Poem

Under the steadfast vigil

of the plestar,

all along the milky way,

I hear the steady tread of revolution

across the firmanent.

Millions are on their march.

Does it not raise

an answering echo in your heart?

Here, in the citadel of

inertia and stupidity, the somnolents lie prone

wielding their fly-whisks,

as they reminate over the past

and repeat their outworn cliches.

Sukanta Bhattacharya

[Translated from the original Bengali by Kshitis Roy]