Not all the evens are evens
Not all the odds are odds
Sometimes we do odd things
To Make the odds even.
At the beginning the universe itself
Was in odd mire,
It took time to reshape
And cool down,
And now where we are living in
Is called earth,
The safest place in the universe.
The preshape of the universe
Is darknes,
The preshape of a baby
Is zygote,
The preshape of a statue
Is clay,
All the things took a particular time
To take it's real shape.
The preshape of Bangladesh
Was East Pakistan
Still it is Pakistan in it's reshape
And we don't know the time
Of it's real shape 'Bangladesh'.
We clash each other in argument
We still bear in mind pakistani sentiment
When shall we be one in commitment
That we are ''Bangladeshi? ''.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem