Blow the sail, boatman, in this unruly wind. Removing the sweat
Of forehead, grip the oar in the blister-stricken hand.
With successive strokes of faith, go forward cutting the angry waves
And keep muttering the name of the kinsman of your existence.
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Beautiful poem/song. I love the imagery that is often presented comparing concepts of faith to fruit. The watermelon split compared to the moon was amazing. Thanks for your translation!
Great comment. I am highly inspired. You would like the poem more if you read it in Bengali. A lot of thanks., dear Pam.