Language can not
Bread any ideas
Oh! Language be my obedient child
And flourish on the bed of my fertile land
Images brag the words
To paint the canvas
The words can not
Force the image to be born
Oh words come
And be on the side of me
When I am in front of the canvas
Take my hand and draw a picture
Of my mind
Logic is the bride
To be married with senses
Beautifully decorated by language
Born on the mind
A child of joy.
ওগো বিদেশিনী ।তুমি নাকি ছিলে এক অচিন পাখিকিন্তু তোমায় যে দেখি আমিগানে গানে আস্ত এক ঢেঙ্গী নারীওগো বিদেশিনী ।যা শুনি যা দেখি তাই ভালো লাগেসুরে সুরে ছন্দে ছন্দেসুর ছন্দ কাঙ্গালীঅ-ভাবে ভাবনিসব ভাব ভাব ন্য়তুলতে তলার ভাবদুব দিতে হয়ভাবের সমুদ্র গহন অগভীর নয়শেখাওনি কেন মোরেও আচিন পাখি?সমুদ্র তীরেগেলে আর এলেমনের খাঁচায় বসে হ্‘লে তুমিআমার মনের ঢেকি…
Secretly I cried a lotThinking about what I had lost.Today I am silentPondering aboutWhat I have lostReally had I got!
Then where shall I get a heart,A mind so pure so innocentLike those of martyred childrenSo fresh so greenLike that of a leafWhere shall I findUntwisted logic and uncooked historyUntrudged by the steps of bias and prejudiceUntouched by crocked grip of human greedThen where should I goAnd meet men whose humanity yet not deadTell me,…
I put some seed of loveBut weeds grew too fastThough I used herbicideBut they know how to surviveI threw out the rose, now I loveThe weeds for their survival instinctAnd power to grow everywhereWithout following any rowMy mind follows the heartAnd grows too fast like weedsTo pervade to hoverThe minds and soulsOf people all over.
any time anywherewhenever the gustpops up like a fishto take oxygenon the surfaceof the waterin the wetlandthe fisher manin me waits andambuscadesto net itto fetch methe replayof the cassettesof terrific moments along with youwith fresh fragranceto refresh my moodthe food of my memorieswhich works as a stimulantfor my rest of the day
Other games do not enterInto his histrionic headBut if waterGoes to an endWhere it would playHis lovely gameIn his imaginationHe caught in between two hornsHe would about to dieVery Sensitive is the situationHe needs a drop of windA point of spaceTo play his watery gameBut he is like a fish or a fish himselfAwkwardly placedin…
