Cries of Protest
(While rummaging through one of my old notebooks, I came across the poem which was a hamhanded translation of one of my Bengali poems written in way back in the 70-s when I had been really a better poet. Anyway, I could not but feel nostalgiac and I felt like sharing it with you. Thank you, everybody.)
The language we speak
The language of thunder
The visual language
abruptly bursts into
Cries of Protest.
The life - full of fire and fumes
Frustration is boiling
With threatening hissing
The life on the verge of death
deep sighs gropng in the darkness
preparation for a due repulsement
is on-going.
The language we speak
is the language of thunder
Under the shade of visual language
ding-dong goes the clock
knocking at the door :
The spring is in the air
Insurrection at the threshold. (Unedited)
Published by Kayzzaman
I am a retired person. Now I am totally involved in reading and writing. I am passionately in love with life. View profile
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