Issue: Vol. V, No. 1, May-July, 2026
Magritte and Myself: Three Poems
1) The hours of Magritte
Magritte,
With which dagger
Did you try to stab time ?
While trying to scratch time
Your black locomotive dagger
Remains motionless in its own propulsion
At the fireplace of the drawing-room !
Does time pay any heed to this stab of modernity ?
Modernity itself is ageing.
It only rests upon the metaphor
That comes drifting from your unconsciousness.
Though time opens up the pages of history
For the people
With the people’s own handwriting
They turn into gory and lacerated texts of these very people.
People don’t learn anything from them.
Time doesn’t turn behind to have a look,
Rather it’s even unable to cast a glance.
For the final moment’s devastation
There
Only a pathetic mockery is retained.
Floating upon the fireplace
Would your locomotive dagger
Give a pin-prick on those pages of history
Magritte,
Will it itself become a puppet of pity
On the texts of history ?
What scar would a feeble scratch of your dagger
Leave on the body of time ?
Time shall move away at full throttle
Without being aware of
Towards which dark cavern.1
2) Magritte’s Apple
A tempting apple
Made the people write off their innocence.
Rolling over myths
It turned into an apple of discord
No one had plucked the apple,
It had dropped on its own,
But the lover from Troy had plucked Helen and taken her away;
The city of Troy was reduced to wreckage.
Magritte, in your painting you’ve made Adam’s inheritor
Behold the world
Through a green apple.
You didn’t let see (or you didn’t wish to see yourself)
The tree biding its time for its moment of death
After being oppressed by the people who stripped the environment.
Civilization has been tumbling down and down.
And now
As the elegant gentleman in your painting
With eyes almost covered
Doesn’t see most of the scenes in front of him
The civilized people don’t see —
(In reality they are unbothered to have a look)
The rape of the environment.
The offenders are his own kith and kin.
And perhaps he himself too is one of them.2
3) Magritte’s Pipe
Magritte, you’ve painted a pipe and keep saying
It isn’t a pipe.
Yes, it’s not a smoking pipe.
No doubt, this is a painting of a pipe.
In the painting it’s nothing else but a pipe.
With this pipe you can’t have a puff of tobacco,
No problem at all.
Still it’s the representation of a pipe,
For among the pipes available in the market
It has a resemblance with all.
And moreover, Magritte !
From the day you completed the painting
This pipe has become exclusively yours.
With your signature below the painting
You’ve accepted its copyright.
Your claim that it isn’t a pipe
Is only helping to point at it more and more
That it’s a pipe.
Once you had even painted an apple
And said that it wasn’t an apple.
Of course, it isn’t.
It’s a painting done by you.
Nevertheless such an apple keeps your face covered forever
In such a way
That with your covered eyes you’re able to see
Only a little of the scenes in front.
Tell me, does anyone see a scene fully
Besides the partially blind?3
- The subject-matter of the first poem is the iconic surrealist painting, ‘Time Transfixed’ (1938) by Rene Magritte. Magritte sought to name the painting as ‘The ongoing time stabbed by a dagger’. The title ‘Time Transfixed’ was proposed by his patron, Edward James. ↩︎
- The title of Magritte’s painting referred to in the second poem is ‘The Son of Man’. ↩︎
- The title of Magritte’s painting mentioned in the third poem is ‘This is not a Pipe’. ↩︎
Translated by Krishna Dulal Barua
Harekrishna Deka is a Sahitya Akademi award winner poet, short story writer and literary critic of India who writes in Assamese.
Krishna Dulal Barua is a prominent translator and writer based in Nagaon, Assam. He received the Katha Award for translation in 2005.