There is little soil in the hills
No fertility, no crops
Naked they are now
Forced to leave the clothes from the whole body
So only red and dry soil comes out.
Don't want to live with this naked body
Want green hills, green trees
There will be fruits and flowers in the tree
The people of this land will become healthier.
But no, no rise in fertility
Eyesight flickering
Drying up-all the parts of the body
Wherever I set my ear
I hear only crying, crying of the hills
Cursed crying of the green land.
31-08-94
Crying of the Hills by Mrittika Chakma From (Akhono Pahar Kande, The Hill Still Cry)
Translated by Sabidin Ibrahim
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is so beautiful I cry with you Somewhere deep inside I firmly believe that our Creator will some time give enough wisdom to humanity that we will let everything grow again Grean and fruitful as it was meant. Superb poetry, Sabidin.