Sultana Naznin | Monday, 27 September 2021 | Print
The lapse time has never come back
I continue to hammer and sickle over the time
to bring back as left behind,
Past algae-time, which non exists continued
Like a dead mouse being on the lips of a seagull.
The prefix in the heart is more intense
than summer heat of 120°F!
Oh God! you made me oblivious!
I am unable to recall my past.
But, I can recollect that one plus one equals two.
Today, I long for death,
as I set a date!
The night, when the sky eliminate the dark
and will be brightened
I will spread my hands over
the nebulae afar will array my hair
The divine flame will expanse to the horizon
Then, I slowly will dive into the cold of the earth
I will be engulfed with ice and become blue
A deep sigh, and then goodbye
Well, is there anything to say goodbye to?
Tale with time
Days were gone with dreaming of life
Still surviving with setting the table in waiting,
I only see you while preparing my lecture on love
Lit the lamp of fatigue and illuminated the darkness.
When come and asked, “If I come back, will you keep your word?”
Storm of confusion being felt
How can I express as I am a sailor?
The opposite seat has left in separation,
The colour of noon retains the gentle emptiness
The sun started to grow feeble in slightly evening
and the quieten sound of air inside the chest
The mind turns more than the clock does.
Addition and subtraction remain incomplete,
Clouds flee over clouds, flying bird
I only see the keys of domestic life knotted with the saree.
I changed my hand and maintained the bond today.
YOU ARE IN MY AFFECTION
One day, you asked how much your love disperses
within my heart?
The gap in the sneaky window melted
and touched my chin; I was stunned.
Today, you no more,
do you hear the conversation in the air of separation?
In the darkness of the night,
emptiness constantly engulfed me,
The Innocent, pure teenage-like transparent water lake,
Today my fingers shiver like an elderly.
You never dived into the abyss,
I am in a silent oil painting.
I long to know, my snapshot still
glitters in your wallet in the pocket?
When it rains, do you shut down the lighthouse,
and make tune into the violin,
Have you grown old, have some hair became grey,
Or, it is not a realm of return, just a burning courtyard?
Translated by Faruk Ahmed Roni
All rights reserve © Poet Sultana Naznin
Posted 6:00 pm | Monday, 27 September 2021
globalpoetandpoetry.com | Faruk Ahmed Roni
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