This is a poem my mom wrote a long time ago that I translated from Bengali to English for my parents’ 25th wedding anniversary a couple years ago.



For him I stand on bended knee.

Having noticed the beauty of a shoulder,

Having been an alveoli beside his lung,

Having been the skin stretched across

His soul, I have been so close,

Because I love him.


And if he does not bind me

I incarcerate myself in

My quiet penitentiary.

And if he never fulfills me

Then I exist, forever exhausted

In this dense obscurity.


But give me a little love

Some small piece of familiarity—

The vagabond scent of windblown hair.

And give me something more

If anything more remains.


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