Poems of HABIBULLAH SIRAJI

Kingfisher, Krishnachura and Manjumala

 

I’ll love you, so I caught a kingfisher and kept in a cage,

I planted a krishnachura in a tub to fill your lips with kisses

I desired copulation, either in wings or in branches

Manjumala, you didn’t take anyone of those-

The kingfisher flew away, its colours were released, Krishnachura lives in the forest- Its neck rose up to the sky

Forty years have passed like this.

 

I loved you, so in conceit the kingfisher didn’t touch fish for long

My feet had different touch

Green and blue were not exposed.

I loved you, so in conceit, krishnachra never met Radha for long.

Spread a good trap, insects touched the cheek

Green never fly colourful images.

 

A drop of poison and endless neglect

The beaks of birds and roots of the tree

Are profound exposure; and Manjumala, you,

Did I have any other fault?

 

 Tiger Day

 

Today is Tiger Day, There’s enormous gathering.

Soldiers of Defense Ministry greeted the day

with twenty one gun salute early in the morning.

National flags and anthem was arranged by Home Ministry

March Past was organized by Child and Youth Ministry

After the display of Air and Naval-soldiers

Handicraft exhibition was arranged by the women

and debate competition was held by the youths.

 

With the passing of hours hullabaloo increased, uproars after uproar

The old member have titmouse in his teeth,

the children are pertinacious.

Someone sneezes on the open tails of tigers.

 

In the tiger day dinner, subjects of cages and zoo got importance.

Besides the speech of the President, multistoried forests

And in the repost of the Secretary the proposal of

Founding of cardiac-hospital and science-university got the priority.

Then the damsels prepared for a dance sequence.

 

When night approached the post went to sleep

and eunuch Ranger went to tie wife’s hair.

Sincere Thursday became ready to turn into Friday

 

At the end of tiger meeting, the hunters took charge of the forest.

 

 

A Fascinating Day

 

A death, while playing hide and seek

got down in the Roosevelt station

The sweetmeat vendor didn’t have a recess.

The milk was boiling, The sugar have ants in it,

The waiting noon stopped beside a wheel chair and

as he looked to the East an impending accident crawled.

 

That morning was dangling on the bag of film-maker

showing seventy-four.

It then alighted on the footpath and raised the banner in the afternoon

In it a false-bearded flutist and a hospital matron

from the wholesale market

Searched for death

Dangle at the basket-ball ground.

 

At night, another death

Escaped from the forceps of the dentist

Jumped at the Hudson and saw

entire underworld was confined by cormorant

The bottles remain open

Like a floating kite the tits dangle and elderly peasant.

Without passport the death crossed the JFK.

 

[1] Habibullah Siraji (b. 1948), first book of poems Dao Brikkha Dao Din was published in 1975

 

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