Ink On My Face, Ink On My Hands (translated)

[Guest guest]

Oh mother of mine,

There's ink* on my hands,

ink on my face.

The neighbors laugh.

My education amounts to nothing -

I see " ShyaMa " in the letter M

And Kali in the letter K,

I dance and clap my hands.

Only my tears multiply

when my eyes light

on the rows of black marks

in multiplication tables.

I couldn't care less for

the alphabet's shades of sound

since your dark, lovely shade

isn't among them.

But Mother, I can read

all that you write

on leaves in the forest,

on the waters of the sea,

and in the ledger of the sky.

Let them call me illiterate.

 

Kazi Nazrul Islam (1899-1976) National Poet of Bangladesh.