The New Nation - Internet Edition

How much more would you gulp?

Rahman Manik

O Bangalee, how much more would you gulp?

You suffered the treacherous acts of Mirjafar,

And you suffered also torments of British kicks.

Pakistan swallowed you bullets to death.

You could knock out the autocrat.

How much mare would you gulp?

Better you kill democracy,

blend sauce of it with blood and backbone

of Nur Hussein

and put 'em all in your gulp.

You trumpeted the drum of rumour

You made someone the queen or the king.

When you did not like him or her

You played reversed record and sing

chanting opposite slogan:

Burn by fire - fire - burn by fire!

While you set on fire, you also extinguish it!

What amusement recreates you there?

Someone takes out the pulp of the fruit

While you get the peeled off skin of it!

That's the irony of fate

You remained happy with the peeled off skin

As if a chained goat of the cattle herd

that appears to be happy with husks in a pen.

O the herd of goats, why don't you understand

your own goodness?

Be united, shake hands.

Not to sing miscellaneous songs

But to sing only that song:

Let's love our country,

let's work for our country.

Otherwise

take everything in your gulp,

then sink and die.

O Bangalee,

How much more would you gulp? gulp!

gulp!

Translated by M. Mizanur Rahman

Twenty three and half degree latitude

Emdadul Haq Badha

Twenty first February is the

Eighth of Falgun off sea

Untied and free like bright star

Moving around without bar.

Barkat-Salam- Rafiq-Jabbar

And so on good names sacrificed

Supreme of their holy lives and

Flowering Bangladesh upright no bend.

This nation to remember ever

Those names with respect and favour.

Endless flashing beacons of motherland

Forget -me-not never ever oh grand!

You are flashing in the latitude of

Twenty three and half degree top,

Like the Pole-star in the north

Giving ways to navigation truth.

Sometimes you get lean and thin

With the touch of bad elements' bin;

Like the darkness of ending moon

Get up-fire and clear soon.

We are free- independent and bright

Should not go back without light;

Got the good circle of milky way,

Pin-point better lives and be sway.

The Pathfinder Ship

With the high waves of sea,

The Bay of Bengal got Lee;

The buoy-tender-ship Pathfinder,

Swelling with plying Chittagong towards

Speedy ebbing of spring low tide.

Rebel waves got thousand collision

Ever lasting games of making solution.

Ship's company (sailors) got sea-sickness,

Continued winds and waves restless.

Sky-high waves like fire- flame,

Like the Pak invaders killing innocent

In the year 1971, the people of Bangladesh

Creating chaos, terrible and nuisance-

Dreadful-fearful-terrific and ghastly;

Horrendous-horrible-frightful and grisly-

With daring shelling and panic dance.

Amongst all one daring sailor

Scrapping and painting his ship's tailor.

Standing on the fox'el (fore castle) of Pathfinder

With no fear of waves and death for ever.

Emdadul Haq Badha