Md. Eftekhairul Islam Mithun
When you sat on handed-chair, on moving;
I aired you by the Gloomy tailed-fan,
You gazed; the full moon night;
The moon was full of smiling
Your heart beats faster, Time passed!
You’re fading and rolling and cooling.
Now, I’m your helper! Standing by you!
You’re sleeping on the Fragment wood,
Your surrounding’s soundless! They tired!
Today, I, rubbing your forehead, opening your eyes
Say, wake up no more! Strangers are coming.
Now, I’m looking back at you as a hero!
You were the giant in power and fame,
Ruled your kinsmen over and punished them,
Hearing your words – air tumbled and waved,
Birds flied in the top of the sky,
Locking the door, homemakers hid themselves,
What happened, today!
Why you sleep in the Box, unanimated?
They are screaming all day long.
What they had lost? What they need?
Sleep, wake up no more-
My dew-drop touched your destiny.
The earth opened its mouth on the Day
Ready to grasp power and fame and dream;
I slandered all your crowns as necklace
And put you White. I’m afraid!
I say you;
“Good bye friend. Best of luck!”
If I knew
If I knew how to put a ‘I-don’t-care’ fence around me
If I knew how to filter positivity from negativity
If I knew how to pick out friend from enemies
If I knew how to grasp the right hand instead of letting it go
If I knew how to convert radioactive wastes of my mind into love
If I knew how to transform those heavy missiles into flowers
If I knew how to make an animal into human
Or to save a 8 years old from being barbarically murdered
I could be happy.
Oh you elegant blue sky
You are my buddy,
You have my own destiny.
Do you wonder “why”?
You are like a candle, edible spray.
Oh you snowy white sky
You pretend like a holy girl.
But you are the graveyard of stars
To me you are like a plastic in a void.
Oh beautiful sky
You are too close, yet too far away.
My paramour will love to grab the sky
I swear I would be the sky.
There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!
Success Is Counted Sweetest
Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne’er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.
Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,
As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear
Confused and Distraught
Again I am raging, I am in such a state by your soul that every
bond you bind, I break, by your soul.
I am like heaven, like the moon, like a candle by your glow; I am all
reason, all love, all soul, by your soul.
My joy is of your doing, my hangover of your thorn; whatever
side you turn your face, I turn mine, by your soul.
I spoke in error; it is not surprising to speak in error in this
state, for this moment I cannot tell cup from wine, by your soul.
I am that madman in bonds who binds the “divs”; I, the madman,
am a Solomon with the “divs”, by your soul.
Whatever form other than love raises up its head from my
heart, forthwith I drive it out of the court of my heart, by your soul.
Come, you who have departed, for the thing that departs
comes back; neither you are that, by my soul,
nor I am that, by your soul.
Disbeliever, do not conceal disbelief in your soul, for I will recite
the secret of your destiny, by your soul.
Out of love of Sham-e Tabrizi, through wakefulness or
nightrising, like a spinning mote I am distraught, by your soul.