The bright bloom of cypress vine climbs
the husk's forgotten loft.
A chest whispers of coffee bittersweet,
like twin hearts adrift in sky.
Disconsolate, I arrived at Limehouse,
Moon of Himadri resting in my palm.
Rotherhithe calls from beneath the tunnel,
leaping toward the shimmer of fish
and firmament, then an immense
garden of earthbound lotus.
Half-memory, half-history,
drifting in the hush of nostalgia under the sky of Falgun
........................
(Falgun, the eleventh month of the Bangla calendar)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem