About Him:Jibanananda Das (Bengali pronunciation: [‘dʒibonˌanondoː daʃ]) (17 February 1899 – 22 October 1954) was a Bengali poet, writer, novelist and essayist in the Bengali language. Popularly called “Rupashi Banglar Kabi” (‘Poet of Beautiful Bengal’), Das is the most read poet after Rabindranath Tagore and Kazi Nazrul Islam in Bangladesh and West Bengal. While not particularly well recognised during his lifetime, today Das is acknowledged as one of the greatest poets in the Bengali language.
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Today I’ll share you some most popular Jibanananda Das poem.(English translation) which make him great legends of Bengali and world 🌎 literature
1)
Banlata Sen
For thousands of years I have walked the path of the world,
From the Sinhalese Sea to the Malayan Sea in the Darkness of Nishith
I have traveled a lot; Ashoka’s gray world of Bimbisa
I was there; Farther in the dark in the city of Vidarbha;
I am a weary soul, the sea of life around me is soft,
Banlata Sen of Natore gave me a double peace.
Her hair is dark and strange,
The face is the work of his Sravasti; After the far sea
The sailor who broke the ship lost direction
Land of green grass when he gazes within the cinnamon-island,
So I saw him in the dark; He said, “Where have you been all this time?”
Banalata Sen of Natore raised his eyes like a bird’s nest.
Like the sound of dew at the end of all days
Evening comes; Chill the scent of the wings of the sun;
When all the colors of the world are extinguished, organize by manuscript
Then the story is shimmering in the colors of Jonaki;
All the birds come home— all the rivers— All the transactions of this life flow;
There is only darkness, facing Banalata Sen
(2)awareness
Consciousness, you are a distant island
By the evening star;
There in the cinnamon-banani gap
There is solitude.
The battle blood of this world is success
truth; But the end is not true.
Calcutta will one day be Kallolini Tilottama;
Yet my heart is with you.
Today, life is very harsh in the sun
People of the world are like people
While giving love
I saw maybe killed by my hand
Brothers, sisters, friends, family are lying;
The deepest sickness of the world now;
Man is still indebted to the earth.
Only the ships come to our port sun
Saw the harvest arrived;
That grain is the corpse of countless people;
The wonder of gold extracted from corpses
Like our father Buddha Confucius, we are souls
keep silent; Yet all around calls for blood-tired work.
Consciousness, if the light shines on this path – this way the world will be freed;
He is the work of many centuries of thinkers;
Is the air absolutely sunny;
Almost as far as good human-society
In the hands of tireless sailors like us
I will build it, not today, but in the far distant dawn.
When did I come to the house of mankind under the pull of earth,
It feels better if it doesn’t come;
I have come to understand the deeper benefits
The dew touches the body in the bright morning;
I have seen what happens to people and what does not happen to people –
All eternal sunrises in the bosom of eternal night.
This two poem is my so favourite poem. I’ll share another great and beautiful poem of Jibanananda Das next post
Good Bye
Great poetry 
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