A poem translated by Megha Bose.

(Originally written in Bengali by Anindita Bose).

Art, who are you?

Art, you are a tale, you are the craft;
You are the artist and his memoirs;
You are the artist’s self, an amalgamation of features;
You are the artists’ soul-cry, their joy, and tears;
You are a blend of all colors; the technique;
You are the feeling, your creator’s expressions.
You are the wind around you, the first rays of the morning sun;
You are the child of this green earth, the waves of the raging sea,
The current of the stream, the return of the lost melody.
You are the babble of birds, the beauty of flowers;
You are the dance of the lingering clouds,
A fine ray of light in darkness abound;
You are the rain that follows the scorching heat,
You are the pride, the diversity that resides in mind,
You are the harbinger of the new, an extraordinary sight.
You are the faith, a site of refuge, a mellifluous tune;
You are the moon, a sound floating in silence;
You are the mysterious God, the song of the mind,
The dance of the soul and the words of poetry;
You are a brew of a hundred sentences,
Yet you are the serene language of silence;
You are the roar of that cloud, the dance of the peacock,
The bird’s chirp, that embracement of soul, its identity;
You are the bridge of harmony between man and nature,
You are the boundless exchange of human thoughts, a divine vision,
A sacrifice, an attraction, a friend, something found in the land of dreams;
You are the worship of the Almighty and the language of man,
The language that enunciates its own dialect, its own theme.

© Anindita Bose 2021