Mustafiz Shafi | Sunday, 19 September 2021 | Print
Sheikh Mujibur Rahman-courtesy Google
The soil of Tungipara in the chest pocket
.
How much water flowed in the Buriganga,
How much Madhumati’s water has flowed-
Yet is it wiped the bloodstains,
is bloody-river mingled with the Bay of Bengal?
After how overlong years, people will forget
the memory of blood,
After how overlong history will back
In its orbit – in silent revenge?
On the blind Shravan night when the eunuch killer’s
bullets crushed the chest of the motherland
crores people’s chant of Joy Bangla
has tumbled down the stairs at 32.
When the darkened tends to be wider
the green of the flag eaten-
Yet, did you think this day will back
becoming another day?
Even then, did you keep gunpowder in your chest?
Not just weapons in a name,
A revenge for killing the father?
You still have a handful soil of Tungipara
in your chest pocket.
Someone once sighed and said-
Keep love in care, and this soil will make you brave.
As bloodstains never erase, consciousness doesn’t end,
but the country has returned to the green
with the courage of soil.
Mustafiz Shafi
Bangladesh
Translated by Faruk Ahmed Roni
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Translated by Faruk Ahmed Roni
Copyright@Mustafiz Shafi
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Posted 2:13 pm | Sunday, 19 September 2021
globalpoetandpoetry.com | Faruk Ahmed Roni
