Ah kite, golden-winged kite, don’t cry any more this noon
by Jibanananda Das
of moist clouds, as you hover around the Dhanshniri river
Your whimper reminds of her eyes dim as pale cane-fruit!
A pretty princess she has drifted afar,
leaving the Earth bereft of beauty;
Why do you call her back?
Who wants to stir up pain by digging heart?
Ah kite, golden-winged kite, stop crying this noon
of tearful clouds, while flying around the Dhanshniri river.
Translated by Faizul Latif Chowdhury