The Peasant Poem by Mohon Raihan

I ploughed this land
and grew in it golden corns.
But the seed I planted here,
at the expense of my blood and flesh
and sweat,
never became like my darling son.

Whorish civilization took away
the warmth of my heart;
see how white beads of snow
have gathered on my bones!
How long have I been lying here
like a dead man
wrapped in mud and earth!

Black cruel sharks tear away
my brains and my bones.
This melancholy life trembles
like a dew-drenched winter night.
Only a darkness woven with the
threads of hardship keep me company.
Today I realize that when I sowed
my seeds
I only sowed my grief;
with my own hands I only sowed
my sorrow.
All these years I didn't cut
corns and reap them,
I only cut my bones.

The smell of corn draws me
again to the green meadows.
O my green, my corns, my grains,
you are written into my blood.
Give me back the peasant's
vitality.