ASAD CHOWDHURY[1]
And then I was a man
There was fire in the water
There was fire in the rain
There was fire in memancholic eyes
of Birangana
There was fire in the melodies of songs
Fire was in the poems
There were fire in the eyes of the dead
Who ever thought of that?
The dogs cats turn wild
Even the snake stings
The fishes even turns back
The sand particles scoprch
There was fire on the prowess
Of the Freedom Fighters
All injustice tremble
At the devastating storm of protest
These are all fantasy
Stories told in faraway time
Then I was a man
But now I’ve turned cheap.
Perspiring
I say, cursing my enemies,
The past was enormous and extensive in size,
The future a bit lifeless in contrast,
Somewhat pale, and slighter in volume as well.
The scope of effort has shrunk,
A good reason for lazing around –
No matter how dull the nearer past,
The nearer it burrow up in a devious way.
I’ve no desire for new stones,
Yet roaming peaks and caves and beaches goes on.
Just because I’m lucky, something comes along
In return for the old bouquet of flowers, though.
You’d hear the echo of the future
In life, in dream, in memory
Indifferent to judgment, tolerant and merciful –
Yet, alas, your body sweats your mendicancy.
Dream-wall
Dreams have no doors nor walls
They stroll like open skies,
White birds
flying
circling
In the deep blue sky.
Some raise fascinating walls in dreams
Wishing to grab away dreams
Desiring to cover them up in dresses
Awkward and discomfited like camels –
This is their aspiration.
Only poets can hear
The lament for authority.
Are dreams, then, some hopeless expectations
Shut up within walls?
[1] Asad Chowdhury (1943) first book of poems ‘Tabak Dewa Paanp’ was published in 1975. Award: Bangla Academy Award, 1987