The Tale Of Queen Brojosundari Poem by Rahman Henry

I.


It's me who is the originator of silence; and this night is originated as per my proposal. Even in depression, In my imagination, I can see the clear turquoise and light pushing aside the metallic sphere! Underground is my world, and at a far distant the settlements are, where incresing the number of graves, shurbs of suspicion and the uncertain future; And the accumulation of thick fog that is capable enough to void our sight... surely, there is a hole in the blue sky and the fire well; Maybe they all slept together comet, sea and the necter of moral stories... but its a little earlier, they had been hired a tomb for me and started to whitewash it; and were painting on the walls that flower who opened her petals in the Brojo eve while I asked her name and showed me the technique of hiding scent to reserve for her beloved!


Evening will come down, but earlier that the scent is runing towards; Rain will be concentrated, so the smell is coming in flight; and beyond our sense, a cheerful morning song is vined; It's the chorus of her appearing where in each and every cell is full of that smell and painted with colorful illustrations. In the cascade of The queen's hair that scent tranforms the darkness into green color... Air stats crying loudly and the list of my favorite flowers start dissolving; the deparature is such a sudden deed, as if the insects are jumping into fire... yet the queen of Brojo is flying on a wrong-chariot of flowers, she seems to be self-absorved.


It was speed of frolics at our feet. Walking trough the red roads, we entered into the vast rosy afternoon, of which all directions are flat-bottomed and covered with sticky carpet of light; But It was a story of that illusion you had dreamt in a dream and the story was spreaded through out the lovers woods. The queen is expired many decades ago, only her stone icon was infront of us, but It's she who has appeared in an imaginary garden. The rhythmic soun of her anklets could be heard in the streets of Brojoland...