MB (November 16,1946 / Bangladesh)

Isn't This A Dream?

The door is open. Many a peep awaits on the tall window
And two trees are kept standing with the moon on their head
A delighted Negro expectorates under the lightpost
On the wall, some worms are moving while two house-lizards on ambush
There awaits peeps and whispers on the tall window
An unknown air is blowing
A hope is oozing out palely
And I am looking for you
The clouds are throwing gazes on the bewildered man
Then a poet speaks out raising his eyes like a meditator
‘Why do you search for the genuine with your aping heart?
You've been made confused by your greed'
-Saying this he has shown me his finger folds
Where lay more wrinkles and prints of many touches of men
And those who've been peeping into the window so long- -
Their faces start melting
All of them are known neighbours
He starts walking hand in hand with the moonlight
Toward Istanbul-

Translated by Abul Kayyum

by Matin Bairagi

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