The mothers of blessings
now, are dead
No honey in the buds
No money in the pockets
No gracefulness in the flying-
glow-worms of full moon night
butterflies of May-days
The goddesses of blessings
now, are dead
The cacophony of city vehicles are alive
The quays of the port are busy with nibs
The lives of concrete are gorgeous at night
The slumdogs are dying in the hungry fight
The fathers of blessings
now, are dead
There have only complaints without solutions
Productivity forgets the equity, equality motions
Abundance of good advice find not good doer
Shoutings of alas; alas; alas are everywhere
The gods of blessings
now, are dead
The Department head said I have nothing to do for you
The Head of the corporate branch asked- here, are you new?
Chairman of the business firm suggested resigning from job
I'm the worker, nothing have to do, everywhere I'm chopped
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
28.06.2021
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Excellent piece as usual...thank u.