প্রকাশিত: ২:১৫ অপরাহ্ণ, জুলাই ৯, ২০১৮


Shamsur Rahman


Like  bunches of Roktokorobi

Like the burning cloud at sunset

Asad’s shirt is waving in the wind, in the blue.


Might be his sister had fixed some starry buttons

In this solemn shirt of her brother

With the fine golden thread from her heart.

Many times,  his old aged mom

Put it in the sun of home yard

With her affection stretched there.


Leaving the yard of mom,

Sunny and adorned with

Soft shadow of Pomegranate tree,

The shirt is now waving in the main street of the city

To the top of the factory chimney

At the avenue corners.


It is waving untiring

Into the sunny echoing field of our heart

At every turns of our consciousness.

A piece of clothes, so humanly!

Has covered up all our weakness,

Our cowardice, stain and regret.


Asad’s shirt is now the flag of our soul!


Translated by: Zahirul Hoque Mozumder