Pochish

oshomoy-e okaron

chuto-chuti, bhulo mon;

bohu-din por -

cheye dekhi kete gelo

pochish bochor.


shur kate, kate shur -

eight B, shibpur,

kate Tintin;

khela khela, dhulo dhulo -

school-er tiffin.


asha jaoa, jaoa asha,

kate bhalo, kate basha,

kolahol bhir;

pushe rakha obhi-man -

chin-er prachir.


jabo hete, hete jabo -

shada-mata, obhi-nobo

prithibi-r book-e;

anonde, hotashai -

proshonno mukhe.

Footpath

amar

mon-kharap kore na ar.

footpath-e shoa loktar kache

rakha ache

amar dukhho-gulo.

amar byartho-prem ar sharthopor bishonnota

lamp-post er holde aloi mishe thake;

alokito kore raater kolkata-ke.

amar kanna-bheja nordomar jol,

loktar molin jama ar poka-dhora kombol -

ei to jibon!

sheet-er footpath-e kuashar chumbon;

nepothho-shongeet mosha-der gaan,

pasher bari theke bheshe asha TV-r awaj,

ar Shahrukh Khan.


janina

kal shurjo uthbe kina.

shudhu jani ebhabei kete jabe raat.

ghumonto shohorer nidarun shonghat

roye jabe obbokto,

ar moshara kheye jabe loktar rokto.


er porer khobor

biggapon-er por.

A Poem by Emily Bronte

There are times when I come across a hitherto unknown poem that captivates my mind, and I am left numb on reading it out loud. Yesterday was such an occasion as I chanced upon the following poem by Emily Bronte.

The Old Stoic

Riches I hold in light esteem,

And Love I laugh to scorn;

And lust of fame was but a dream

That vanish'd with the morn:

And, if I pray, the only prayer

That moves my lips for me

Is, 'Leave the heart that now I bear,

And give me liberty!'

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,

'Tis all that I implore:

In life and death a chainless soul,

With courage to endure.

Eksho

haat peteche paonadar,

paona baki tar.

shude ashole pherot chai,

eksho taka chhar.


tv channel biggapon,

anondito shobar mon,

mitthe jhogra-jhati.

eksho loker bhirer majhe

aponmone haati.


jibon mane treadmill.

gacher patar chlorophyll

kokhon geche jhore.

drishti-bihin shobde shonar

eksho badur ore.

Label

A little baby is born,

And there's no time to waste.

She can cry if she wants to,

But she can't afford to rest.


Don't let go of any label,

Any stamp to put on her face-

Stamps of religion, class, and caste,

Of country and race.


She'll carry all the tags

Till the day she's dead.

Don't leave her any choice,

And there's no need to be afraid.


The world is a big cellar, and each one of us -

A bottle of wine.

Be proud of your labels -

For they taste divine.

Jonaki

chele-bela, chele-khela, bondhur preeti,

shohorer hakdak, haranor sriti,

jhoro haoa, bhije kak - chirodin beche thak -

pakhi-der bari fera - hashi-mukh kore,

beche thak shopnera - ghumer bhetore.



ami khali hete choli hati hati pai,

kichu asha, bhalo-basha dana jhaptai.

ekfali prithibi-te - kate din nibhrite,

ar beche thaki.

jekhanei thako dure - tumi theko roddure -

amar raater jonaki.

Kobita

kham-kheyali kath-berali,

paliye berai raat.

ghum hoyeche griho-tyagi,

nishuti tollat.

tik-tiki-der tik tik tik

shobdo korar bhishon batik,

ektu-khani shanti khoje

prochondo jhonjhat.



shopno-gulor mathar byamo -

edik-odik chai,

badhon-hara, karon-chara,

hajar ashongkai.

shun-shan shob shohor-toli,

shongo-pone shamle choli;

tobuo chena mukher michil

rasta atkai.