MOHAMMAD RAFIQUZZAMAN[1]
Doubtful Reflection
Even the heart has illusion
So all day long
I call out, Hey Rafiquzzaman
Where are you going? You remain speechless.
Move towards darkness, towards life
Without rest, in pursuit of deer
From here and there, somewhere, anywhere,
Some other place, Where could it be?
Alas, O Time!
Remain wretched, like a dejected damsel
Stare on immutable, Pallid dampness
Only in intolerable silence
Like a cold corpse. There’s no delusion
hatred- ruined invitation
In those eyes. Still O Rafiquzzaman
Where are you going? What for?
Just think once
Even the heart can become blind.
Genealogy
Mom used to say,
There’s night, so there’s moon.
Papa used to say,
There’re hands, so there’re food.
I said,
There’s night, but there isn’t moon
There’re hands, but there isn’t food
Hey prostitute, you’ve your bosom
So
There’s happiness in submission.
Son said,
I’ve bullets
I’ve my voice
And have a skull to counter the bullets.
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Commercial
The poets of the town are roaming
Naked at Ramna
They have tattooed their bodies
Engraving, I’m poet
I’m poet
I’m poet
I’m poet
I am.
I am, I am. Soft clothing of poems
Under the banyan tree of Academy
Like the crimson fruit
Spreading foods for the crows
Carelessly throwing away
Roaming at Ramna
With heated artifacts of tottoo
Looking for Bodlier’s back
Keeping soft lips
On the consumed Ramna’s figure
Think with arrogance
Ramna means Dhaka
Ramna means whole of Bangladesh.
[1] Mohammad Rafiquzzaman (1940), First published works Kothae Lukabo Mukh, 1981