There will be a time when your soul will be crossing the troposphere, Forsaking the land where you breathe now; Like skydivers in reverse. And you will have wings for hands, Drifting far away from the war zone that you were born into, Jiving to the rhythm of the wind. So spill the words storming …
As I sit under the tree Gazing at the serenity Wondering, could it be? That love is just you and me? As I look back at life, Reversing the sands of time Why did I not earlier realize It was you who was missing all this time Remembering how I tried to smile Spreading my …
আমি বলতে পারছিনা, তার মৃত্যুর পর একদিনের জন্য সূর্য আলো দেয়নি একটা রাত আকাশ ধোয়া জোৎস্না হয়নি প্রায় এক মিনিটের জন্য হলেও একটা গাছের পাতা নড়েনি যদি বলতে পারতাম তাহলে সত্যিই হয়তো বুঝাতে পারতাম- তার মৃত্যু কতটুকু ছিল, কেমন ছিল — Photo: mønøglitchic
Eisenstein’s ‘Battleship Potemkin’ was not about 1917 but, in the film, the director unleashed upon the screen the possibilities the year’s cataclysmic events had allowed artists from all walks of life to imagine. The depicted mutiny by the crew of the vessel was part of the wave of insurrectionary activity sweeping across the Russian Empire …
I am, The upside-down carcass of everything You loved and desired, But now you look at me with such disdain. Dead and rotten, Twisted and hung On display-for you to see. I am, The cremated remains of the happiness We’d forgotten, that still floats around in the air. If you breathe in, You might still …
Nayon and I sit one day. We are translating a poem I wrote last year; It is called The Fisherman’s Wife. I talk about the smell of the sea And the smell of semen. About heroin and being underwater. We decide to translate backwards. I meet him a week later, and he has pages About …
সত্য মিথ্যে সবকিছু মেনে নিয়ে বলেছিলাম, সব ভুলে গেছি আমি, তুমি শুধু আমার হও। আমি তখন না বুঝলেও এখন বুঝি, চোখে যা দেখা যায়, কানে যা শোনা যায় তার বাইরেও কিছু সত্যি থাকে। আমি সেই সত্যিটুকুন ধরে নিয়ে তোমার সাথে থাকতে চেয়েছিলাম। চাই নি? বলো চাইনি? শুধু তুমিই আমাকে মেনে নিতে পারলে না। আমি মেনে …
The firewood from the mothers of humanity fuel the engines of Exodus The trucks queue up to feed the borders among us You learn to fold your arms to walk into the sun As it collides with the tears of the past
The woman’s eyes pair off As the twin brows had done To the left a man, and the right another Mirrored as men, but to whom the lover? The woman was young, beloved. Even still? Or have the curtains come down? Who is to answer? The man or the lover? For the woman, there was …
In a trickle, In a heartbeat. As fickle, As you make it. Pulverized visitants, Where’s your call for arms? Saved the spear, Fighting ghosts of bygone charms. Assassins craving comfort, Like throwing rocks at a river. The water doesn’t get hurt, And you can’t tell one feeling from the next, ever. The time has come, …
