Mashrura Lucky

Les Miserable

The rains adorned the scattered lampposts over the city,
The paired hearts of the twin street boy’s love
was hidden in the urban Kadam flower,
The fingers are too busy
I will buy love at the signal next junction
Let forget the highway or the sunburned eyes.
I will be an anhydrous cloud flower.
You will be the les misérables ,
The light of a candle will illuminate the heart
Or the sigh of that lover’s couple.
We will float in the coming rainwater.
Let the hell be in the prison of the wet city.

The Face of the Map

My mother’s hands
Are a revolutionary mother’s tight-fist hands
And the mimicry of Ana Frank’s ones.

The sweet fragrance of golden rice
The endless sailing storm of the peg-top

spinning in the chest
The midnight’s obsessed eyes
Sleeping like the white bird
The happiness wrapped in my mother’s
Lotus like black hair
Is an amazing face on a map.

My mother’s two eyes on the stage
Like the golden cropping, field woke up
Silver Hilsa fish swarms
The world trembles with compassion
Thousand miles of turning
The soft sixteenth age of image with green scarf
This is my mum –
Tenderly extended chest of affection on the way to earth
My mum is a timeless face on the map.

(Translated by Faruk Ahmed Roni)

All rights reserve © Poet Mashrura Lucky