One can not fall in love with perfection, but when in love, one considers oneself , the love and the loved one to be perfect.
True love will always be imperfect, rife with flaws and utterly human.

Entirely my opinion, anyone is free to unsubscribe.

Sometimes it so happens that a song or a tune or even a word catches hold of my attention and refuses to let go. It keeps on playing inside my head and sometimes becomes synonymous with my perception and conception of beauty. So has happened with this Rabindrasangeet that I was singing in the evening today. Though I have sung it many times before, the song in all it's beauty surrendered to me only this evening. I have made an attempt to translate it, keeping to the translation word-by-word method, because translating Tagore by the sense of his song is beyond me,I humbly admit.

Deep nibhe gechhe momo nishithosameer e

Dheere dheere eshe tumi jeo na go fire.

E pothe jokhon jabe aandhaare chinite pabe

Rajanigandhaar gondho bhorechhe mandir e.

Amare poribe mone kokhon shey laagi

Prohore prohore ami gaan geye jaagi

Bhoy pachhe shesh raat e

ghum ashe aankhi paat e

Klanto kontthe mor sur furaay jodi re.

here follows my translation

My lamp has extinguished, in the nightly breeze.

Quietly you tread, in soft unheard steps.

O do not turn back and walk away!

When you walk this path, in the darkness of night

By the fragrance of rajanigandha

In the temples by the roadside

You shall know I am near.

I wait for you to remember me,

I keep awake, singing the hours away.

But a fear haunts me…

Slumber might steal into my eyes

Late in the night,

The song might cease upon my weary lips.

Quietly you tread, in soft unheard steps.

O do not turn back and walk away!

Underneath the brown skin and white bones, there is somebody else, somebody who's always awake and watching. She speaks too. How do I reach out to her? How do I turn my back on the outside and reach inside?

I add another to my list of desires.
I want to stroll on a small-ish railway platform of an obscure little village, milky white in a half-moon's light, looking up towards a star-spangled clear sky, a breeze through my hair and a distant song in my ears!

It's a blue day!

Themadgirlobserves:

Love has two types.

One is silent,apparently quiescent, soft-footed, beautiful as the twilight, a trifle sad,assuring as the darkness of the night, purifying as the first drops of summer rain,pure as a child's smile,serene as a dolpurnimar chand,safe but passionate all the same and always, always there!Dhruvatara r moton.



The other kind is eloquent, sure as the morning sun,intense,passionate in the conventional sense,makes its absence felt ,also its presence,scorching as mid-noon but just as purifying,dazzling as laughter,kalbaisakhi,makes one lose directions, as ultimate as death and just as true.

Both types are what legends are made of and tragedies too.

In another 17 minutes she turns a year older and I grow with her. Happy Birthday Maa.

Kal amar screen jure megh korechhilo.
Sondhyebelaay chomotkar brishti hoyechhilo. besh ektu bhijeochhilam.