Pigeon Poem by Rayhan Rhyne

'What remains in the folded sleeves of the winter-sky
What exists in the ceaseless gibberish of the evening-madness
Whose empathy advances from earth towards the bunches of green leaves
What keeps growing in the scribbling of a fade, rough notebook... ”

Father taught how to cut open
The poisoned wheat-seeds from the stomach of a pigeon;

He descends amid thick fogs towards the lowland;
A flock of pigeons flies off, suddenly,
Flutters wings, flies towards a direction, where death looms large.

Their flying route is white with fogs;
A bunch of pangs keeps fluttering
throughout the whole morning!

(Translated from Bangla By Raihan Sharif.)