Anamika

Anamika

By what name shall I call you,

Nameless one, Anamika?

In water, land, sky, and beneath,

Your sweet name is not written.

In summer, in the golden champa flowers,

Your name's essence sways gently,

Scattered at the roots of the bakul tree,

Your name is a sweet whisper.

The rainy season speaks of tears,

The sky calls you a creeper, the earth a yearning bird.

In the monsoon clouds, hidden is your name,

Like kajal in the eyes.

The month of Srabon asks, is it jasmine or bela?

The peacock calls you Malavika.

On an autumn morning in the lotus grove,

Honey is sipped in your name.

In the tune of Saraswati's veena, the bees hum,

Your name glimmers, reflected in the lake.

Ashwin says, it's a wedding,

With the fragrance of shefali flowers.

On the riverbank, in the flute's tune, your name's illusion thickens,

The sky melts with compassion, and your name falls as dew.

In the harvest of golden rice,

Your name is woven in rhythmic songs,

In the silent nights of Hemanta,

Your name's flame burns in the stars.

On the shadowy path, your name's dust is sprinkled,

In the pale beauty of the moonlight, your name is inscribed.

My name, filled with longing,

Makes the clear sky cloudy,

The cold winter wind cries,

Where is the distant nebula?

Your name's hundred streams sway in the forest's neck,

I've heard your name's chant echoing continuously.

In the lap of Dulal champa leaves,

Your name's bud sways,

Krishna chura, henna says,

Ever familiar, it's Radha.

Across the creation, the world's beauty worships your name,

Enveloping your sacred name, the heart meditates.

With the emotion of your name,

The ocean rises in waves,

In the whispering breeze,

Your name returns as a song.