17 FEBRUARY 1990, Page 32

Fancy

A bell is ringing nonstop in my heart.

There was somewhere, somewhere I was going to go, Tense from a long time waiting — 'Where are you going, will you take me Along, up on your horse, into the river, with a flaming torch?'

They all burst into laughter — 'A tree, of all things, fancying itself on the move!'

Startled, I took a look at myself — A tree fancying itself on the move. A tree Fancying itself on the move? Am I then — Born here then, to die here then, To die as well?

Who is it then, inside, who rings a bell?

Who is it then, inside, who tells me to get moving?

Who is it then, who's shaking me nonstop, inside?

Vijaya Mukhopadhyay (1937-)

Translated from the Bengali by Stinil B. Ray and Carolyne Wright, with the author