Farewell
by Rezauddin Stalin, Bangladesh
***
Is every farewell a kind of death?
Is return a form of rebirth?
We, the dwellers of this earth, depart—
Each destined for Koh-Kaaf’s end.
None welcomes those who return.
Their companions are bees,
They dance holding fire’s hand.
Their drink is the bitter nectar of stone.
Guides lead them toward illusion.
Their homes have no doors—
The key is lost forever.
Fearing return, the earth begins to walk again.
Its orbit shifts in the joy of parting.
Where the road ends—at the North Pole—
Narcissus stands, gazing.
Farewell is more precious than return,
And death, more meaningful than birth.
Translation : Farzana Naz Shampa
