(composed in Bengali 1990-s : after request from the Editor of a Bengali Magazine
Transliteration on 8 / 15 / 2014 )
===================================================
So many months now
I am not writing poems
nor paint pictures
nor sculpt Waste -wood sculptures.
My dear Editor,
you demanded a good-long poem
for next issue !
But is there really a sense
in demanding for such poem !
Or , is there really any meaning
in a long long poem
Or making it long
does a good poetry
really remain a Poem
On this issue
I have been thinking deep
for a good length of time .
Dear Editor ,
I have really with me
no good-long poem
Over more I think
my poems would never be
ever too long
And even more now
I am getting more and more
bound in Compression .
For, -- often I find :
even a small sweet flower
getting more burnt in Summer -heat
is getting shriveled
like my compressed poems !
Often I look back deep
in my memory Store
and my reminiscence to find
as if
like a young dependent frightened deer
leaving its sick mother behind
drags itself more ahead
In the same way
as I left my partitioned or butchered
MotherLand
bartering for ( when a boy )
for my Political freedom .
OR--
how can I forget my childhood - life
surgically severed from me !
How can I forget , my Childhood- River bank
where ,- holding my mother's hand
I would dream of Ocean vast
in future life !
All these dissociated fragile thoughts
like broken glass
stab and hurt my bleeding heart
of childhood- life !
All memories are like
restless fleeting clouds
likewise,-- there is no Rod-map
on the flying wings of birds!
To day :
I am a fully developed modern man
but scarred
That's another STORY and shall tell
some other Time .
____________________________
Transliteration on 8 / 15 / 2014 )
===================================================
So many months now
I am not writing poems
nor paint pictures
nor sculpt Waste -wood sculptures.
My dear Editor,
you demanded a good-long poem
for next issue !
But is there really a sense
in demanding for such poem !
Or , is there really any meaning
in a long long poem
Or making it long
does a good poetry
really remain a Poem
On this issue
I have been thinking deep
for a good length of time .
Dear Editor ,
I have really with me
no good-long poem
Over more I think
my poems would never be
ever too long
And even more now
I am getting more and more
bound in Compression .
For, -- often I find :
even a small sweet flower
getting more burnt in Summer -heat
is getting shriveled
like my compressed poems !
Often I look back deep
in my memory Store
and my reminiscence to find
as if
like a young dependent frightened deer
leaving its sick mother behind
drags itself more ahead
In the same way
as I left my partitioned or butchered
MotherLand
bartering for ( when a boy )
for my Political freedom .
OR--
how can I forget my childhood - life
surgically severed from me !
How can I forget , my Childhood- River bank
where ,- holding my mother's hand
I would dream of Ocean vast
in future life !
All these dissociated fragile thoughts
like broken glass
stab and hurt my bleeding heart
of childhood- life !
All memories are like
restless fleeting clouds
likewise,-- there is no Rod-map
on the flying wings of birds!
To day :
I am a fully developed modern man
but scarred
That's another STORY and shall tell
some other Time .
____________________________
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