Poems by— Mridha Alauddin
Poems by— Mridha Alauddin
Translated by Tuwa Noor
The wandering bird
The splendor and unique bird was confused and was only saying
Love you, love you and love you much…
And one day the bird with the nomenclature of love
adorned with soft tiara
Flew away wearing a vivid and colorful silky dew drop dress
The bird went toward south in a dark night where evergreen leaves lay on ground
The bird was getting restless, erratic and disoriented in her flight
After wandering the river, vast blue sky and unknown world,
The bewildered bird returned to the green horizon.
The milky white pigeon entered into the dense night
No, no that was illusory moon-lit light
Or bright sunlight or feather of blue birds?
May be the day time down pour of rain like moon light falls.
Verses for the perfect world
In a brilliant and miraculous hanger
In a hanging porch or in an equivalent sea
Or in a deep blue sea Ill purify the today’s submerged civilization.
Like the drop of saline water which is symbol of health and wisdom
The grenade-attached world will be purified
The cleansing against the capitalism and imperialism
Astonishingly, this is the way to educate the sightless eagle how to speak
The purification is for the flowering in the dark and haunted land.
We are overwhelmed bright moon
The sun rays in front of me
Are now gloomy as the Dajla River
My beloved Bangladesh!
Are you the same like her?
The rivers in front of me
Are bright as moon—
My dear Bangladesh! Is that happen in case of you too?
Are we the putrid vomit of earth or grenade?
No, no we are overwhelmed moon-bright huge constellation.
On a evening of rainy
I was watching you on a Sharvan evening
The shameless breeze was blowing your long hair and the edge of your Shari
You are leaving like heavenly goddess with a waist, river and hips.
I am fading like the last sun of the evening
Where the horizon bends at the end of an agitated copulation,
in pink lips and the twinkle of your magical eyes.
Just take a look at the blue eyes
You can’t turn around your eyes, will get stuck in deep of iris.
Let’s get immerse in deep silence.
And call me to get close
and hug me
As if the body and mind get wet amidst the rain
Don’t turn down me with your skillful language of eyes.
glide me on the night without deception, in your compiled sea
I become restless and neglected without you.
I don’t feel the southern breeze
I am lonely
I am desperately lonely
There is hemorrhage in my heart all day long.
Come back darling! Pour with pure sun and water of aspiration
In my immense portico.
The amused dance of bumblebees fascinated by love
The fields in front of me are drowning in Ashwin’s* new moon in absence of you
All my beaches are trembling with unwanted objects, dark and hard-void vibrations.
Come to my desolate blue land
We will engrossed in cultivation of apples, perfumes or lemons
It will be luscious in contrast with our farming, tools and mechanism of rain.
When I see the bright light of moon pours on my homestead, porch in absence of you
I came back sad again and again to my quiet water bed.
Come darling! We will bring down another glorious sea on earth
And the desired sunlight on the human body.
I walk toward front step by step like bright stars;
The solid love never fails to walk on the path
Now I can understand fast
Simplicity of love
I hate to see any woman going back bare.
Do you want to go back to an expansive murky hole?
I opened the door of the cage prolonged to horizon
I will reach my destination with the blessings of Basrar’s roses
I will reach inside unresolved beauty
With elevation of some pains
I will melt away on quiet-white Sharvan evening
You will not see e anymore
I will melt away
I will melt away…
*Ashwin, a month of Bengali year
Desire for upper palace
I will break the tittle-tattle of the world
I will be the first new Noufel
I will demolish the garden of evil’s and his hard rock-sea;
And the sky of the Ajazil filled with ailing sun ray
The rough sky
The broken stairs of apprehensive belief and disbelief
I will break the waves of deception and bring up sunshine of the tenth sun
And today, I will pronounce with my tongue
The desire of the upper palace as the white pigeon—
‘Then which of the blessings of your lord will you refuse?’