Summer In The North

Poem By Sofiul Azam

Summer, that's a hard facer
in this tropical heartland's North
where the Padma's once-wild flow slugs -
a spineless python dragging its dull

burden into the Bay of Bengal,
where dust's long maddening wait
for a little moisture seldom ends
or withered trees' branching out

in green again hardly happens.
Anyway, look over there
a dry man in a dry month slouching
past North's thirsty pleading;

(in his heart, dormant geysers
awaiting their burst into the open)
but still his past peeps through
the skin of a hard-pressed

custodian of drought scenes,
once a connoisseur of Kalidasa's
fabulous The Cloud-Messenger, the hard-
cover with feelings of monsoon

not even lost in translation,
and of his artistry in Sanskrit
so steady in his Aryan elevation,
he is on the lookout again

for harbinger-clouds crowding
neat as his beloved's tuft of dark hair,
and for sprinkling summer rain-
drops like womanly cool caresses

on his sweating figure. Oh, it's
clouds that gather, and soon disperse,
leaving his hurting mouth sun-
dried for long odd weeks ahead.


Comments about Summer In The North

Nice description, albeit mostly parched and painful. I expecially like your description of the river.

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The House Of Rumours

(for Monira Qais)

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into this house where rumours breed like spawn,

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At the time of the sun's spitting saffron out in the sky,
my life turned into a dazzling Gorgon and smiled.

The Gorgon with her snaky hair and tempting eyes

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St. George And The Dragon

Shadows fell on indispensable hopes and grace.
All of our inherited clemency cowered;
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