The International Poetry Journal in Bengali and English

Issue 24/25
April-Sept '04

    Sample Poetry in Bengali
    Goeorge Wallace's Article on Azad Attack

    Dr. Azad in Translation
    To the Editor
    Humayun Azad's Essay
    The Spirit of Azad's Poetry

This special Internet issue of Shabdaguchha is only providing the English version of the four poets presented bilingually on the hard copy of the journal.

Humayun Azad
A Blind Train

A train, blind and deaf, speeding on dark railtracks.
Awake, as weÕre sleepless, with the dead moon
And motionless cloud in the sky.
The blind railcars, though tired now, speed up
As blind competitors. The filthy train
DoesnÕt know where to go now, since it bears a terrible sickness.

Through the Dark Age, the dirty train runs in darkness,
Keeping deep dark in its dark heart.
Darken flowers dance in weddings, and the tattered light
Comes down from the blind stars.
WeÕve offered fruits, flash, stars and the moon to the
Blackened hands of the sickened driver.
We are sleepless in the dark cage of the blind moonlight.

Our state of sleeplessness roams like a dark fly
And our eyes cry a huge amount of pus. The blind railcar
Does not know where the black nightÕs directing it to.
Crack the bridges, and keep on cracking. Crack whatever we like
And whatever weÕve achieved, honored and prayed for
--The human civilization too--
Crows keep on crying through the dark phase.

And the dark train, through the long night, keeps
On running in a dark speed
And the dark linesman holding the dark light
Takes us to the deep dark underground.
We are sleepless, lost of hearing. Our eyes now
Dream of the blinding shadow of some white dreams.
WeÕve known, the trainÕs approaching to the broken bridge
And soon it will crack stop all of itÕs dark wheels.

Translated from Bengali by Hassanal Abdullah

Samuel Menashe
At Cross Purpose

Is this writing mine
Whose name is this
Did I underline
What I was to miss?

An unheaval of leaves
Enlightens the tree
Rooted it receives
Gusts on a spree

Beauty makes me sad
Makes me grieve
I see what I must leave

Scaffold, gallows
Do whose will
Who hallows wood
To build, kill

Blind man, anvil
No hammer strikes
Your eyes are spikes

This poem has been translated into Bengali by Anwar Khandaker with Hassanal Abdullah and presented it in the hard copy of the magazine.

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    Shabdaguchha, A Journal of Bengali and English Poetry, Published in New York, Edited by Hassanal Abdullah.