Shabdaguchha
Shabdaguchha
Sample Poetry in English:
D. H. Melhem
Turtle Backing out of the driveway I feel a crunch (a fallen branch?) pull forward over a soft bump. Wedged behind a rear tire: some yellowish thing, thick, mottled like a giant butterfly. A turtle-crushed open- intestines glaring. I try to clear the tread, prod with shoe tip what's stuck to bluestone. Fetch gloves and trowel. Dig a hasty hole. Lift the victim with a paper bag. Tremors cease. Quick-bury (hide) with earth with leaves. Trembling, I take the wheel. A car's collateral damage. In war, as here, it must be hard to see what you have done. And to bear it. Farida Sarkar Dictator The World Wars are over, the days of imperialism are also done. Those who were oppressed have been released from the hateful harsh grip of dictatorship and see themselves now in the earth's free light. But dictators aren't dead yet. Like the devil's generation a hundred Hitlers are born from one Hitler! Just take a look at our fathers and husbands, each one a living Hitler. In the all-consuming vanity of power, they seem to grasp everything in their clenched fists. With commands and great wrath they want to triumph over human dwellings, people, the very corners of the home, and our innermost hearts which, knowing justice and goodness to be supreme, have not learned to compromise with lies. Our fathers and husbands themselves have not taught compromise—at least in words, in the fulsome rhetoric of their advice. But how amazing: how easily those fathers and husbands forget all about democracy, equality, justice, and turn into hypocrite fascists or Hitlers! Translated from the Bengali by the author with Carolyne Wright Tino Villanueva How I Wait Today I sit by a window, my spirit swimming out into the deep-azure-blue of the sea. I'm a woman waiting, in love with a man, and in love with the love we had. I took an oath with myself to wait, and keep passionately waiting even after the great shining of the sun has worn away. I pick up my sorrow and carry it to bed, and wait some more before sweet sleep weighs down my eyes. Next day I rise, and hear myself speaking words of all-abounding hope …and go on waiting. These things I say aloud to have clear thought, to keep the day alive. I'm a woman waiting, waiting with the restlessness of sea-waves repeating themselves in her head like messages from afar desperately making it to shore. Hassanal Abdullah Dogs Don't Like Me I cross the street And take the other walkway When I see a dog. It's not because I don't like dogs. It's because they don't like me. They bark at me Or try to chase me whenever I'm nearby. Both the American and Bangladeshi dogs Act the same way when I'm at their sight. About a year ago My neighbor's dog, A cute little one— Long fur hanging from both sides of its head— Was fast to chase me Back in my house. I was afraid and taken aback At the same time, Because they always said it was a gentle one. When I was in Dhaka, in my early youth, At one morning I was coming out of my Cousin's quarter in the Cantonment area, A similar dog—later, I found it was a Colonel's pet— Chased me As if we were in a 400-meter relay race And bit me in my left ankle. I took 13 shots in a row And passed through a miserable time Out of the fear of the terrible disease. Now, I stay away From both Bangladeshi and American dogs. Sikder Avik A Door to New Life Every day I lie in bed sleeplessly. With Undying thoughts I am struck with fear, Nightmares haunting my mind mercilessly, With a deathly hold, I’m binded near. Death is far from far and is awaiting. When the reaper’s deadly wrath falls on me, I, too, will join the dead and be leaving, But my final words greet death as a key. Death is not a mistake, but is a must. We, People, fear death as it is the end, But for others death may not be fear, but lust. Death isn’t as bad as the message it may send. Alas, my life has reached its end, yet isn’t over Death may open my door, yet all I see is a blur. |