A poem for the iron falcon

But this won't shake me out of slumber, dear iron falcon,
howsoever much you try
To drill in your beak, into my skull
howsoever much
you perch on both my shoulders, one foot on each, and the
talons sticking out of them
But that won't stop me from dreaming, dear iron falcon, my
Eyes are not within your reach, you have power over my fingers
my ribcage
And my spine, you control the way
I sit, stand, blow my nose and hiccup, you have power
Over my pillows, big and small, and my pots and pans
My clothes, doors and windows, my drums and bells
You have power over my private orchestra, and yet
My mind has gone away, drop exceeding drop, it has
Taken on the speed of light, there's nothing much you can
do about it dear iron
Falcon… howsoever much… you try
To drill in your beak into my skull, the matter inside
will never melt
Dense, black and steaming hot
Your lips will fail, they'll bend and twist, dear iron falcon,
with your
Thousand contraptions clanging inside you, and a thousand
television sets crashing
A thousand aircraft groaning as they take off and land
a collision, compensations
Joining hands, murders and planting spies, but
there's nothing much
they can do about this, those spies, raw and seasoned, those spies
Wearing a child's face, dear iron falcon, right here…
With this ocean of flames in front of me, and its fiery droplets rising
through the haze, the sun
Floating away, it drops like a dead star, and
This vast ocean, made up of many-hued suns
And me slipping out through a gap, somewhere, coming
out into the open
Through the other end
To find an enormous heart, right there before me
with all its life, throbbing…
My eyes go down into it like a flying machine
Shooting messages
Shooting messages from far away
From the farthest places
From my previous life
In the meantime, you may do as you wish with this body of mine
dear iron falcon
I can't be bothered any more…

Translated from the Bengali by Chitralekha Basu