The scent of a flower -A Translation from Humayun Azad

The scent of a flower

Mouly, I am speaking to you, like you, I was little one day. I was in a rural place, a village, where the cloud drops down as sapphire green, cobalt blue, long and dispersing, Water lily blossoms there, and the moonlit nights are stories of white balloons.It flies high on the palm tree, where there is a lake, on this side, and on the other side, there are village houses. There are paddy fields, green grass of meadows and yellow pumpkin flowers. The lake runs into a canal and that canal with the jumping bunches of small fishes and the meandering zigzag runs toward an estuary of the lake. There is a wooden bridge , quite an unsettling one, runs on the upper north, and down there, the twilight silhouettes fall in the shadows of the water. The name of that place is a rural place, where I will borrow a line of a poem. I was alive there, twenty years ago. I was there through the sunlight of the summertime, the condensed clouds with the forecasting rain. The autumn moonlit night where the nightfall are stories as white as a butter and the winter blows there, through the wind chill of the blowing breeze.