The New Nation - Internet Edition

Some Haikus

Ashraful Musaddeq

Summer noon

Spellings of the sun

Into water-mirror.

Soft midnight

Spring yawning

Happy new year.

Watching TV-

Old shirt

With new button.

An yellow leaf

On the green grass

Creeping winter.

Insect on the

Yellow pumpkin flower

New life.

Mosquito on my hand

Tiny balloon

With a positive blood.

Green tea

Sweated

Tipra lady.

Nature, human and the mind

Emdadul Haq Badsha

I have seen a lot of colours of cloud,

And seen it's aggressive mood;

I have seen huge waves of many rivers,

And seen much happiness in those tears.

I have seen good blessings of sky,

And seen it's endless and vastness;

I have seen grand speed of wind,

And it's divine blowing kind.

I have seen countless dances of sea,

With her Swatch -of -no -ground lee;

I have seen much more heat of sun,

And the vastness it's strong gun.

I have seen many broadness of hills,

And it's natural playing games dills.

I have seen many types of human being,

And their colourful hippocratic staying.

I have got much taste of my life,

And got immortal honey-sweet type;

I have seen various scenes of human minds,

And also seen their sad and joyous kinds.

I have seen the tidal flow of Bengali here,

Creating cheerful madness for Ekushe there.

Tale of those souls

Shujauddin Kaisar

After the dream is dispclled

there remain the words of the dream

there remains serene silence

there remains across the scenery

the delightful spread

of the golden hue.

Sweet gracefulness sprouts into letters

and words

touching the body of the language-

the golden cluster of words

streaming down towards the source

with its unbounded nectar-like sweetness.

After questions there remain

the words of questions

there remains the enchanted originality

in the listless Falgun

there remains distasteful faded sources

around a painting.

In the gracefulness of soft threadwork

there arise dream and courage smiling and hugging

engulfing memories

there arise the wonderful book of tables.

In the exotic high tide of golden fluid

in the march of freedom

there come afloat

the pristine soul of the Bangalees.

Translated by Zakeria Shirazi