Ba~xir D'ak-বাঁশির ডাক

 

বাঁশির ডাক 
 
নিষ্ঠুরতার কোনো সীমা নেই।
অত্যাচারের রাজ
শেষ হবে না কাল-পরশু,
চলছে জোরে আজ।
 
হত্যা-কাণ্ড ঘটছে সদা।
ধ্বংসে, ক্রোধের জয়।
কত জীবের, জীবন ধরে,
দুঃখ, পীড়ন, ভয়!
 
******
 
তবুও দিন আর রাতের লীলা।
তবুও ভালোবাসা।
অন্ধকারের গর্ভে তবু
ভোরের আলোর আশা।
 
তবুও দয়া, তবুও মায়া।
তবুও সত্যের খোঁজ।
তবুও সাহস। বাঁশির ডাকে
চেষ্টা চলেছে রোজ।
 
সোমবার, ২২ জুলাই, ২০২৪ খ্রি
বার্ক্লি, কালিফোর্নিয়া
 

Xadharon manuxer gan-সাধারণ মানুষের গান

 
সাধারণ মানুষের গান
 
জগতের হত্যা, অত্যাচারের মাঝে 
বইছে তবু সেই চিরতন ধারা—
শিশুর হাসি, ঋতুর আসা-যাওয়া, 
এই জীবনের ছোটো মঙ্গল সারা।
 
মানুষের কীর্তি? ভালো-মন্দ দুই! 
নিরাশার খাদের থেকে, আকাশের তারা! 
চোখের জলে, শহীদের চরণ ছুঁই। 
ধন্য, আশা দিয়ে যায় যারা।
 
ইতিহাসে কত বীরের গল্প, তবে 
প্রায় সব-ই যোদ্ধার মহিমায়। 
সাধারণ লোকের উদার যত্ন, সাহস—
কঠোর দশায়, প্রতিদিনের চেষ্টা, হায়—
 
কোন্ মহাকাব্যে লেখা, কোন্ গীতে গাওয়া—
খুঁজে পাই না, জানি না, জানি না, ভাই! 
চোখে দেখে, বুকে টের পেয়ে, 
সেই সাধারন মানুষের গান গাই।
 
নত মাথায়, প্রণাম করি এদের,
মৃদু স্বরে, এদের গুণগান গাই। 
মানুষের সব নিষ্ঠুরতার মাঝে, 
মানবতায় ভরসা রাখি তাই।
 
রবিবার, ১২ মে, ২০২৪ খ্রি.  
বার্ক্লি, ক্যালিফোর্নিয়া 
 

Fragments

   
Fragments

We age and then, in time, we die.
And yet, although we might despair,
We hold to truth, refute the lie,
And try to mend what needs repair.

We're humbled by the blows of time,
And all our hopes are dashed in turn.
And yet, we breathe, and persevere.
While life remains, our candles burn.

Who knows the truth, except the gods?
And surely they are blinded too.
We hold our fragments to the light,
For that is all we each can do.

2017 April 24th, Mon.
Brooklyn, New York
 

Congress

 
Congress

A congress that is sexual can be wonderful indeed.
So those who represent us might consider “having sex”,
as the newer generation so dismally now says it,
to receive that inspiration that no lobbyist can give.
And if by chance caresses lead to feelings, surely then
our Congress will be better, though it’s mostly made of men.

And if there is an afterglow, in which unreason flees
as mind and head connect again, there might perhaps be hope
that all of the conventions and the pressures fall away,
and the Capitol, deserted as the Congress is at play,
might function as intended by the best in slavers yet,
when the Congressmen, returning, find they’re reading every line
and voting with a conscience—and a vision cleared by sex.

2016 August 23rd, Tue.
Brooklyn, New York

  

Relief

 
Relief

How precious are the times we have of peace,
amidst the madness that afflicts our lives…
A tranquil moment, in the press of work
within a factory, gives us sustenance.

We see, within a school, the teachers who
must run from room to room.  They race, when in
those rooms as well – and scold the tardy kids,
as they themselves are scolded in their turn.

For those who lag, where others go at speed,
are trampled.  So the workers all must race.
How pleasant, then, the slower interlude
at lunch.  How dear, that ending bell!

And yet, observe.  When students all have left,
a teacher stays and toils – and eyes the clock.
For if she stays past six and then is seen,
a reprimand or worse is her reward.
 
And when at last, at night, in wintertime,
she furtively escapes – and exiting
is greeted by the air that’s bracing, fresh –
how grateful she is then, for that relief.
 
And as she walks along the city streets,
she shivers, but she now has time to see
the naked limbs of trees, to hear the wind,
to calmly breathe – and so to simply be...

On reaching home, attending to her chores
of work and home, she seeks a little time
for those she loves and for her ragged self.
And that’s enough – for then it’s time to sleep.

And let us hope that sleep is restful, deep
and free of all that plagued her in the day.
For this, we pray – but rarely is it so.
The madness enters even in our sleep.
 
2015 April 8th, Wed.
Brooklyn, New York

  

A Season for Retreating

 
A Season for Retreating
 
If you’re punished for your labor,
Should you cease to do what’s right?
If it’s truth that you’ve uncovered,
Should you hide it from the light?

When you’re harried for your caring,
Will you then no longer care?
When you’re hammered for your daring,
Will you then no longer dare?

You can think about your answer,
You can answer fast or slow.
But until you’ve lived to know it,
You will never really know.

You may think that you’re a fighter,
That you’ll never yield your ground
When the stakes are truth and justice,
Though the foe be all around.

But the years can take their taxes
And the blows can wear you down.
And there’s little point in fighting
When it’s you against the town.

There’s a point in every battle,
There’s a time in every war,
When you know you’ve been defeated,
No matter who you are.

There’s a season for advancing,
Another for the pause.
There’s a season for retreating,
No matter what the cause.

For your causes may have merit
And your logic may be sound,
But when lies have you surrounded,
Then it’s time for ceding ground.

2015 January 11th, 12:31 pm
Brooklyn, New York