Taslima Nasrin

(25 August 1962 - / Mymensingh / Bangladesh)

Comments about Taslima Nasrin

  • Fabrizio Frosini Fabrizio Frosini (12/14/2015 2:38:00 PM)

    a GREAT WOMAN and an excellent poetess

    200 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Vishal Sharma Vishal Sharma (11/3/2015 11:08:00 AM)

    her works will be there for eternity

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (5/10/2015 2:13:00 AM)

    Hello Nasrin, ...your verses I read here.

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (5/10/2015 2:08:00 AM)

    Dear, I read your poems, I like your way of presentation very much.

  • Abdulrazak Aralimatti Abdulrazak Aralimatti (3/15/2015 11:37:00 PM)

    Life facet one-Truth is truth.
    Life facet two-False is false.
    Life facet three-Truth is false.
    Life facet four-False is truth.

  • Ash Shaheen (7/21/2013 5:16:00 PM)

    She may be a hardcore feminist associated with some of the most contentious social issues but to credit her as an intellectual with literary skill is just a load of rubbish! She is just a below medio core writer. She is simply an opportunistic person enjoying a luxurious life in Europe - using the sentiment of some over enthusiastic feminists as well as some pseudo liberals who have been dreaming of having romance with women from Indian sub-continent! So annoyed to see her name here!

  • Nasreen Banu (5/17/2013 6:11:00 AM)

    I want to meet Taslima, let me know the way

Best Poem of Taslima Nasrin

At The Back Of Progress

The fellow who sits in the air-conditioned office
is the one who in his youth raped
a dozen or so young girls,
and, at cocktail parties, is secretly stricken with lust,
fastening his eyes on lovelies' bellybuttons.

In five-star hotels,
he tries out his different sexual tastes
with a variety of women,
then returns home and beats his wife
because of an over-ironed handkerchief or shirt collar.

In his office Mr. Big puffs on a cigarette,
shuffles through files,
rings ...

Read the full of At The Back Of Progress

The Unrung Ring

So many things ring,
the cells of the body,
the ankle bells as they dance,
the silver wrist bangles.
As the monsoon rains fall on the window
the glass panes musically ring.
As clouds clash with clouds
lightning rings out.
Dreams ring, keeping time to their beats,

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