the man who thinks

Without any error or dearth in effort,But at the end got ignominious defeatIn the barrack pondering deep, what is life?Now life is hell, and death is blissMy life, my soldier, thinksJoy or sorrow, defeat or victoryTime eats up all and relieve in historyTwo pennies more or lessExcept love life is meaningless.

I could blowBut when I cameTo pen you offThat would not become a qualityThat could not lift my poemFrom the average lineTo the line of extraordinaryI started to useFigure of speechLike simile and metaphorThis is like thatThat is like thisStill my poems remain very poorI turned to tell storyThey became good themeBut never become good…

While they themselves wish to be termitesTo be eaten up slowly and silently from inside.People want us to be sharp as the edge of knifeNot to cut their stupidity and ignorance into piecesBut to use us as weapons to cut their share of benefitsIn the market of immorality and unethical darkness.

Talked to each otherBut whenever I asked himAbout the existence of GodHe remained silentAs if silence was his answerBut when I became noisyHe secretly told meIt is beyond the understanding of manWho is excited and sends waves of thoughtWith high frequency but shorter of wavelengthCome downAnd have ‘’ no thought’’ situationLike meThen you will seeThere…

Which reflects the light backTo illuminate the source

তার আদুরে কদরে নাম আলমারির কোণে রাখা সোনাআমার কোন উদ্বিগ্নতাও নেই, নেই কোন দুশ্চিন্তাআমি বিন্দাস ঘুরি, তাপ, চাপকে আমি করিনা পরোয়াভাবছ তুমি, আমি হয়তো হবো কোন বৃক্ষ বা গাছনির্বাক দাঁড়িয়ে থাকি যখন মানুষ খোকা দেয় যন্ত্রণাতা হয়তো ঠিক ভেবেছ কিন্তু সেটা আমার পূর্ব অবস্থাএখন আমি ছোট্ট, অবহেলায় ফেলে রাখা এক খণ্ড কয়লাআমার আদর নেই, কদর…