By: Hasan Hafizur Rahman
Translated by: Dr. Faruque Azam
will not the mother call by his name ever again?
like a tornado that name will resound
in the turbulent mind’s ground
round and round it will rise and call;
like the pearl between two lips it will not roll
and brighten no more. not in this entire life
how will you bear this unbearable weight? how long?
abul, barkat are no longer here;
oh that unusually grown up large kid,
who would walk touching the roof of madhu’s stall.
call him no more; you would curl up with disgust if you do;
salam, rafikuddin, jabbar- a bunch of melancholy names
these names like sharp spear now pierces our heart;
we lost them, even before, we were prepared for separation
because, engulfing reactionary has
no respect for life and humanity;
we lost them, even before we could think
because the trick of reaction calls upon
thousand deaths from one death
now we have lost them,
who would never be erased from our heart
and who would never let any one to calm down;
those whom we have lost, they have made us boundless
from one end to another of this land,
bits and pieces they are scattered
into the bright soul of this country
while drowning in the darkness of death.
abul barkat, salam , rafikquddin, jabbar
how amazing, how sad names are these.
indeed ,they are but a row of torching names.
Like the farmer who plants the seed of rice in fertile land
With the hope of golden fruit,
So have I planted my subtle sharp feelings into the depth of the crowd;
Oh My Country, the lesson that history has taught
The pure son of the land has exposed the radiance of your soul.. one that shines in the blaze of golden rays;
That spark had touched the edge of hungry souls.
Oh my country, I have bathed into the depth of your heart’s water
Like the laborer by mixing his talent with creation
gleaming with contentment he would rise above and that fragrant touch
Anointing my soul ,I looked up into the sky
Once submerging my eyes in your hazy village Jamuna
like Thousands and thousands of rice paddy I see endless green of our heart
What amazing life is stretched across—I didn’t realize not even a day before
What amazing grace has flown into your millions of sons
Not even a day before, I realized, Oh my Country
Just remember the foggy eyes of your father
The shrill of a sister losing her only brother
Those Who have told truth in the deep lonely moment of heart
None of them are here now
One from the pair is missing
The melancholy eyed deer that lost its cub
Like the endless waves of the sea the boundless cry
The wailing cry from various directions,
The visionary has lost its vision
Oh my knowledge give me the poison of one utterance
This spreads from heart to heart
Like the medicinal birth, shivering from once disdain
Knows death no more, oh my knowledge
The first heart wringing word of life
The utterance of first lesson of humanity
For that honor they stood in regiment
The gaze as bright and sharp as that of Buddha and Mohammad
Like the abundance of emotion at the eye of the needle
The seven stars in the sky that is marked in the depth of blue
The enemy of life have snatched those holy bodies
And their soul now we harbor in our heart to heart
Three;
Not a single one of them is here
No, The fifty of them are not here today
And we for those immortal martyrs
Their dear word of mouth, Bangla, we are united like layered stone
As the giantHimalayawe have become impenetrable
Oh My country. Like the flood
We have fertile one realization from all the evidence of experience
Now we are the cusp of Life and death
Like in the skull of daring sailor in death defying sail
The far away wind howls
Like that here is a broken hearted woman, sakina
Here is the mother and father,
Brother and sister, the grieving dear ones
And you, Oh my country.
Here we are face to face with Pharaoh’s last year’s defiance
Here we stand at the last chariot of the world
Oh My country, silent or ebullient, we are the verge of this conflict
They have shattered thousand voices from the mother’s love
Now it’s only us for you.
The slum mother if could only hold a healthy child suddenly in her arms
The way one can forget countless death of wounded days
Just like that we have forgotten the death of fifty martyrs
Mother, because we have you
Now nothing is left to understand,
What you want, what you want what you want,
Oh my Mother!
