Piercing ribs of
Blows on—a humming wind
The songs sung by tailor birds
In your pomegranate tree
Those may be translated into—two different ways
But on the question of human-terminology
Just like an interstate stream
There strongly exists a third consideration too!
Birds— the messengers of climate and cosmos,
Not spokesmen for anyone;
Borders never determine their nationality.
keeping an eye on the grown pomegranate
Let your people and birds disagree;
Otherwise, how would we reach a consensus?
Topic(s) of this poem: bangladesh, metaphor, opinion
Form: Free Verse
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.