The black car stopped,
A bunch of rifles walked out.
Some asked: Why?
They replied by shooting:
Thash, Thash, Thash …
The questions were dead.
The replies jumped back in the car.
* Translated from original (Bengali) into English by RAZIA SULTANA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Incredible. The way that you have explained the horrors of ill famous encounters, is simply immaculate and bold. There are no humans, no questions or answers but guns, shots and lifeless bodies.
Thanks a lot, sir. I'm really happy to hear from you. wishes, my dear poet.