Poems by Aliza Khatun

Stage of Farce

Translated by Ashok kar

After installing the tent of discussion, you’re
Continuing nonsense gossips like chewing puffed rice
Betting on someone’s arrival at the program

Before taking snapshots of the exciting stage games
The decorated chair still remains:
In every two minutes, invited guests keep changing the chair
In the restless events of camera options
Nobody is excluded from the start to end photo session!

You’re the people with repeated caricatures and never stopped
The competitions for chair on the stage, the mental conflicts
I’m just a spectator; but I can decipher
The scam you’re setting as the spider net
When spectators appreciate you with applauses at the program

But into my mind it rings that-
“As soon you could clean up fungus on your own
You might realize how much fraud you crafted for yourselves!”

The Ambulances will Come Soon

Translated by Protty Hamid

Useless is their celebration.
They free the pigeons- yes, they free them
the peace from their bills when excised.

Their cooling machines cost us all our dreams
dreams dreamt in the open sun, in the open sky.

Only to decorate their willful stages
alien flowers they are cultivating or
importing from Basra.

And the green of our meadows
is concealed with pitch by their rollers.
Covering their faces with mystery
they are walking by the ruins of our own culture.

Our dying dreams are groaning, bemoaning
convulsively trying to survive with ample faith.

Now be ready to divulge the wounded dreams-
shortly the ambulances of possibility will come
to collect their reminiscences.