In The Almond Groves Poem by Rahman Henry

In the Almond groves
My eyes met the wandering murderers

They are the domesticated Princes of the self-declared Empress
They go to the Cashew Orchard whenever they like
In the moonlit night to embrace those who are dumb
They are disdainful about those who think they still have a voice

They Princes holy job is to make those voices numb
Their cruel fingers seal the dissident throats into deep sleep
The map of my motherland is being booted in every second
By the holy guns of these hooligans.

In the Almond groves, today I met some of them!




*Translated from Bengali to English: Akhlaque Ahmed