The old pain in the skull seems to be
heading Kapildanga means
a mound with a high plaque
The mound surrounded by a wall is not far away!
...
Scenes within the limits of vision-
Gardens, flowers and the abstract songs of leaves
Their ways of life
The unseen cover of difference
...
As the blush of a lovely breast spreads
Harpy eagle's desire hovers over the Tigris river
Taurus rides the high tide of excitement.
...
Someday suddenly-
If love comes and says-
How many bundles did you cut?
How many bundles did you tie?
...
Breeze translates the silence of the gusty forest in Indian oak branch,
Aquatic colors die and fade in the pupil of eyes.
Confused idol lies in the flames of extinguishing light in pathetic temple.
Then what happened today in the dead forest of the mating season?
...
Fire and surrender
Observing the motion of distant planets
Walking in the path, city and port
...
Days Go By In The Stream Of Sunlight
Then your falling youth
How pitiful!
...
And I-
Beyond the forest, beyond the mind
Came over-
Kandapara's field
...
Leaving very comfortable warmth
I was reluctant to come
Forcefully I have been sent to
The blazing fire of the earthen furnace
...
It's dawn like every day
Hiding the moon and the stars
A big round sun came up in the blue sky
What a wonderful shiver in the air
...
At dead of night from the window of my study
A red Moon is visible -
In its fallen youth-
Upset Moon-
...
The wind in the window-
Ignored, alone I am -
But the -
moonlight falls down -
...
Ploughing the mud of complex day
The shadow of long fatigue has descended-
The illusion of a gloomy evening-
As if blowing along the meditation of a Yogi
...
Bee hive of Lemon Garden of Ande Villa-
Its humming fills up the entire brain
Below is the hue and cry of hiding game.
Now in the midnight-
...
Now search the song of roof-making
The consolation of a slow motion day-
Romantic body of the Olive Barb in sight
Of Bioscope smeared colorful childhood-
...
Darkness is removed by the light of his skull
There becomes dawn on the ground
But what a terrible deception
In the treaty of stupid interests
...
No submissive currents-
In the copper pages of innumerable histories
On which various paintings are painted;
Not his destiny-
...
Now with a sharp razor in the skull
There happens the lamentation of stripped marrow
Falls down on the fragile chest
The bark of the monstrous sound.
...
Reza Raza, a Poet, Translator, Physicist and Thinker was born in Manikganj, Bangladesh. He has studied Physics in Dhaka University. He is a bilingual poet. He writes poems both in English and Bengali. He has six books of poetry and he has translated a story book named ' Laughable Loves' by Milan Kundera from English to Bengali and it has been published in Bangladesh. He also has translated a lot of poetry of international poets from English to Bengali.)
Destination: The High Mound Of Kapildanga
The old pain in the skull seems to be
heading Kapildanga means
a mound with a high plaque
The mound surrounded by a wall is not far away!
Badu, Kalu, Falu, Yadali's parents are always there
The game is over, he said.
Assalamualaikum ahelal kubur.
There have been many changes in these years in Kapildanga
Broken are many branches of the Blackboard tree next to it
Its leaves became yellow,
The surrounding forest has been cleared,
The sudden oozing of the spotted Dove of salty fig bushes,
A song of amorous cuckoo ripping through the still air
The sound of the rushing water,
Gallinules's cry, lament
The recently disappeared ‘Tub Tub' sound of the Watercock
Gently pulls me to the past holding my hands.
Let me go then, Salam!
Crossing the bank of Saipara lake
If I Walk along the side of Namavita
Surrounded by a wall with high plaque of Kapildanga
Is not supposed to be far away.
If the poet meditates, poetry is revealed.
To catch poetry, the poet has to keep his conscious antenna up.
Reading good poetry inspires poetry writing!
If the preoccupation with something else increases, the yield of poetry decreases. Poetry demands time, care, meditation and a conscious antenna to catch it.
Good articles on poetry could only be written by good poets.
Poetry is the best and most abstract form of art.
If the poet gets busy with everything except poetry, it will leave him.