I do not wish exile anymore

From my own village to a foreign city

From group bathing in the pond to a solitary lavatory

I do not wish any exile

Never wish

Exile anymore – 

From jui, chameli, chandramallika or kathgolap flowers

To tulip, magnolia or chrysanthemum

From my own city to the unknown footpath 

From the skies of Asia as blue as peacock

To the foggy West

No, I do not wish

Any exile

Anymore.

I prefer my own home to the rented flat

The delicious shol fish soup to the

Tasteless chicken soup

And roll at dinner – 

No, I do not wish exile anymore.

From my month of Boishakh as bright as sword and

Rich with the buzzing of insects to

The cry of hounds in winter

This exile – I do not wish anymore.

From the deep embrace of my love

To the flocks of foreigners obsessed in killing

This exile – I do not wish anymore.

From the orient to the occident

Under the other flag engrossed in revelry 

This submissive exile – I do not wish anymore.

From love to lovelessness

From religion to bigotry

From progressiveness to the medieval helix of intransigence

From kiss to distance from lips

In an eternal coffin on the other side of life

This exile

I do not wish anymore

No more do I wish any exile.