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Legendary Poetry:>Shamsur Rahman
Shamsur Rahman (1929-2006) 

That Hand 
The hand which looks for the moon-white dream-way
on the breasts of a woman
and looks for soil for cultivating crops there;
what a wonder, that same hand
writes down the order of throwing bombs!

Translation: Sayeed Abubakar

Independence, You 

Independence, you're the immortal poetry
and songs composed by Rabithakur.
Independence, you're Kazi Nazrul, a noble man
of bushy curly hair, trembling in joy
with the peace of creativeness.
Independence, you the brightest meeting of 21st February
held at the shahid minar.
Independence, you the spirited procession
decorated with flags, full of slogans.
Independence, you the smile of the farmers
walking in corn-fields.
Independence, you the wanton swimming of a village lass
into the heart of a pond at a shining noon.
Independence, you the tight muscles of skilled hand
of a youngblood day-labourer burnt in the sun.
Independence, you the light of the freedom-fighters' eyes
at the dark forlorn boundary of motherland.
Independence, you the fresh speech of a young brilliant student
under the banyan tree which stimulates its listeners.
Independence, you the stormy dialogue
at tea-stalls and meadows.
Independence, you the maddened wind of kal-boishakhi
surrounding the horizon.
Independence, you the bank-lost breast
of the Meghna in srabon
Independence, you the kind earth
of my father's soft jainamaj.
Independence, you the shivering of my mother's white sari
spread at courtyard.
Independence, you the mehedi's colour
on the meek leaf of my sister's hand.
Independence, you a coloured poster as bright as stars
at the hand of a comrade.
Independence, you the wild dance
on the open black hair as well as in winds.
Independence, you the colourful coat worn by our baby boy
and the game of sunrays on the flabby cheek of our baby girl.
Independence, you a cottage in a garden, songs of cuckoos,
the glittering leaves of an aged banyan tree
and my poetry-khata where I write what I wish.

Translation: Sayeed Abubakar
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