আমার ইংরেজি কবিতা

লেখালেখির শুরুর দিকে ইংরেজি কবিতার প্রতি বেশ ঝোক ছিল আমার। সেই ঝোক থেকেই লেখার চেষ্টা করেছিলাম বেশ কিছু ইংরেজি কবিতা। সময়টা ছিল ২০০৫-০৬, কবিতাগুলো তখন ছাপা হয়েছিল The Daily Independent এর সাপ্তাহিক Weekend-এ। তবে অনুবাদের প্রতি ঝোক বেড়ে যাবার কারণে অভ্যাসটা খুব বেশিদিন ধরে রাখতে পারিনি। এ পাতায় সেই কবিতাগুলোই প্রকাশ করে রাখলাম।

With Al Mahmud

Two afternoons –
I spent with you or conquered,
From your elevated life.
I wanted to touch your hidden,
Imaginations and the vast tracts of verses.
As the sunlight touches,
The soil and the trees of the earth,
Piercing the atmosphere.

After two afternoons-
I spent with you or
What I conquered,
I discovered my fallen pen,
As a juvenile spring and I still notice,
A multi-coloured lightening in the horizon.

It is true- you returned to your city,
From this tiny town of looms,
But even you don’t know,
You left your own shadow.
With whom I still spend,
My dangling afternoons.

10.11.2006

Dream Journey

Let’s speak of our time.
Let’s speak of our silence.
Drowsy night and awakened beings,
No one, no one was around,
Only ourselves and love.

The sun, perhaps-
On the other side of the night,
Was burning with envy.
And the nocturnal moon!
O, it was on our part.

Let’s speak of our immersion.
Let’s speak of our dream-journey.
We paused for a little while,
And then rushed again to dreaming,
Crossing so beautiful, so various, so new!
As the cavalier soldiers – frantic to conquer.

Let’s speak of our that dream-journey,
Every moment of which,
Was the wordless verse.

17.11.06

Inferno

At the top of the woods,
At the bottom of the infinity,
And in the deepest core,
Of human hearts;
Inferno, Inferno is on the march.

With the colour of the falling sun,
As the horizons burn,
Similarly I.
Nevertheless, at last,
I’m left as the glowing ashes,
Of happiness,
With some dreams scattered,
With the ancient hoax,
Of the goddess of beauty,
All around.

When the wildfire engulfs,
The wildlife,
As the fuel of own.
Who the father is —
(Man or God)
Then vaporized!
And the floating macabre tale,
Of defeat,
Extremely terrible.

At the moment,
The fire-killing water destroyed,
By fire,
Then the inferno is,
The sun of darkness and
The messenger of the future.
And the shining beams of light,
Say—
The darkness on the flight.

 03.03.2006

Foreign Cactus

You the foreign Cactus,
On my desolate land,
Welcome to be grown,
As the village maiden,
And charmingly,
Touch my empty hand.
Open your thirsty eyes,
Like the silken smile,
Of the girl by the road.
Do not hide your lust,
On the green,
Beneath the sky;
And like the tropical twilight,
Singly seek in my heart,
Your serene self abode.

24.02.2006

Bonfire

[“In the nineteenth century the problem
was that God is dead; in the twentieth
century the problem is that man is dead”
– Erich Fromm ]

Little by little,
Leisurely as like a beetle,
I penetrate into a,
Complecated world of mirrors.
And my whirling images,
Constantly seek their,
Own being in delusion.

Little by little,
Leisurely as like a beetle,
I hide my soul,
In a secret, dark chamber.
I seen the kindleds,
And of human Bonfire,
And being chased
Constantly behind.

Little by little,
Leisurely as like a beetle,
I walk into a strange exile.
I walk, leaving behind,
The everknowns,
Where human goad human,
To be demons.

Human love in human world,
Is burnt in cruelty.
Or as if a child of shame,
Hurled in the midst,
In a some distant dump,
Or into a deeper mire.
And mutely I walk away,
To keep out of the mirage.
Little by little,
Leisurely as like a beetle.

 16.12.2005

Like The Wet Soil

The world is drenched today,
With the tears of the sky.
I am like the wet soil,
Soaked with your innocent lie.

They ask me, why I’m alone,
But don’t know, you are gone.

02.12.05

Monument

Time after time, moment after moment,
We’re making a solid love-monument.
On the vast surface of our wide hearts,
Breaks after breaks being put, are trusts.

Time after time, moment after moment,
All the happenings and the events being sent.
Orchids of the woods, roses of the gardens came,
With clouds of the sky to get bejeweled your shame.

Time after time, moment after moment,
To you, all the beauties and fairs are bent.
And you and me smear those containing,
You’re in my canvas as the monument shinning.

Time after time, moment after moment,
Our history has gone beyond to comment.
Age after age we remain in the shade of love,
Time after time we go to be its above.

02.12.2005

Life Like This

As the dried leaves of the trees,

Fall down,

Fly away,

With the gusts of wind,

Life something like this,

Worthless, unwillingly.

It is futile to count,

The time or moments,

Or the lovely lilies.

09.12.2005

A Fiery-bird

A building, far away

Fallen flat on the earth, nearly wreckage now.

Savage fate, as if a demon, has wrung the neck,

Mercilessly.

All the worldly needs, what it had, are lost at the

Artsy touch of ruin. And the upright remains

Merely for the charity or can be tolled-left by the secret rudeness

Of the civilization.

To evade the future burden of explanation.

The weaker bricks were dropping down,

While, one by one, two, five… too many,

Or long ago the soggy plaster carelessly,

Negligently, no one came to behold it and the grief.

No one solaced it, while the brine of the earth were

Sucking the extract of its life.

But today, with the passage of time,

When its existence is collapsed, the defeated

Bowed head has smeared on the bosom of the earth

Completely,

At a time like this-

All are risen from the volatile sleep,

All the big-wigs.

Municipality, social workers, jurists, scholars…

And even the architect also!

And in all directions- ah! Alas! Oh!

You can hear the floating groan of the anguished masses.

Some petty leaders, besides, propose to hold a service

In remembrance. And someone else from behind, comments:

`It is a great failure!’

At long lasts the building embraces the deadly silence.

What else it has to be said?

The words have flown away since a long time,

For the uneven disposition of brick-dust.

Which at the window, the southern breeze did

Swing once upon a time, a frowzy smell gets out of the same way.

And the hollow physique is now reptile’s safe abode.

The singing birds, just a few days back, made a musical soiree

In the cornice, what is now a dwelling spot of a

Carnivorous vulture couple. The ill-fated wall often gets

Drenched with the prey’s blood.

Nevertheless the silence remains alive…

A fiery-bird will be seated there

Leaving the world of fairy tale.

Perhaps someday.

11.11.2005

The Red Days

When at the days,

The luster of the dawn covered,

The romping surge of the sea,

And the unworldly charioteers,

Of the dreamland,

Embraced me in the reality.

The days as they were,

Still so luminous and heated,

In the pages of my heart.

The history, perhaps,

Neither historical,

Nor a hidden treasure.

Perhaps not to give `doctor of philosophy.’

But still the days are,

Living streams of water,

I feel the pulse thereafter.

My ear-holes tremble today,

With the old, ever known and

All the immature melodies.

The days were red,

No, no bloodshed there,

Only the auroras’ fair.

Still then,

The catastrophe of the earth and

The heaven, yet to be spent.

02.12.2005

Prey

Whence the throne of God trembles,

In human revolt,

Just at the same high,

Two vultures wreathe aforetime,

In this sordid sphere.

Two pairs of cruel eyes await,

With extreme desire,

When the odor of death spreads,

In the air.

Some more naked eyes have got together,

In the meantime,

And awaiting the secret sign.

Perhaps, cattle in a desolate land,

Left by the soul’s last fly.

A few mere hays or a dew of pity it got maybe!

And all inhuman dreams drawn in ill-shed,

Are now broken to dust.

But still,

The vultures wreathe in the forbidden air!

And whimsical God,

Is clogging his prey with some vague words.

Not beast but the freed minds!

21.10.2005

The Phantom Tree

Still then;
The worldly dawn of the earth
And the heaven,
In the deadly slumber.
The birds of the planetary world,
Yet to tune up,
The constant melody again.

I am,
A solitary pedestrian,
Of the Universe,
Freed from the ties,
To go mountains, woods and
To the end of the seven skies.

Someone in the dark!
Perhaps an exiled islander,
On the shore,
Hints like a rustic lad,
Flying the kite of smoke.
And my twin eyes prolong,
The sight quite more.
The journey isn’t short,
And darkness seems dense before.

Suddenly;
A strange golden wing,
Touches my going.
Beholding some stunned eyes,
And the awaiting snowy angle behind,
I walk despite.

I go,
As if a sailing boat,
Or sometime,
An idle glacier of the north.
God’s era of loneliness ends,
By my simple footfalls.
And to the rivers—
Flowing through the earth,
The way is unknown.

I go,
Far and far away,
Towards a phantom tree.
Not dream or dream like,
Or a walking blind.
But the enlightened image ,
Of my mind.

 

My Tiny Town

Behold; in my tiny town,
There is no multi-storey apartment
Building, no lofty ultramodern
Skyscraper, wrapped in colourful glasses.
You will never find a trace of any great wall,
Built to protect the dictators.
The toxic steam, emitted from the iron giants,
Will not try, to suffocate you –
Here, in this town.
Nevertheless you, will be astonished-
The human vision be confined here,
In resistance of weaker short walls!
Behold; our roaming is abridged here,
In some black, tarred roads,
In some lanes and bye lanes or,
In some particular tea stalls.

Our steps, more like a pendulum,
Repeatedly on the same way.

No thousands of marvels,
No thousands of new,
And there is no resonance of arrogant light.
Nevertheless people, be amazed,
With the touch of simple sights.

Nevertheless people, get delight,
From some old,
And from some thrilling bold.

Devine arrival of future,
Isn’t so easy to notice here!

Behold; in my tiny town,
There is no roadside milestone,
Engraved with the name of the way.
Nevertheless people, go on the journey,
Far and far away and,
Get the virtuous green, vast land and,
The vernal afternoon.
They get, at last, their origin,
At the end.