You gave me a gold-plated fountain pen
And many other tools for writing -
This little desk
Made of almond wood,
Letter pads of various sizes,
An enameled paper cutting silver knife,
A pair of scissors, gums, tapes,
A few glass paperweights
And some pencils red, green and blue.
You told me to write you letters
Every other day.
Having taken my morning bath
Now I am ready to write a letter to you.
But I am at my wit's end
To find a news to give
Except that you have left.
You also know this
Yet it seems
You don't know it so well.
So I thought I must tell you
You have left.
Every time I begin to write
I realize
This piece of news
Is not so simple as it seems.
I am not a poet
Who can give a voice to his words
And express well what he feels
Hence again and again I tear what I write.
Now it is ten o'clock by my watch
I have to make your nephew Boku ready for school.
But before I leave
Let me conclude -
Only this news I have
You have left
The rest have no meaning
And are no news.
Translation of the poem 'Patralekha' from the collection Punascha (Once More) by Rabindranath Tagore. The original in Bengali script may be viewed at
