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Modern Poetry>Syed Shamsul Huq
Press Briefing
Is it not true that causing so many deaths
Finally gave you so little satisfaction?
—Three thunder-burned trees are standing
On the way of the market.
All the paths of the village now start from them.
Is it not true that your rivers
Still carry new-killed bodies?
—In a clear midday, the flocks of hilsa fish in Padma are seen,
As also a cheerful wind, and
Thousands of boats, you can’t
Even see the river for them—
Silver harvest will come before dusk.
Is it not true that another force Empowers you from behind?
—I was awakened the other night by the calls
Of a jackal, as I once in my boyhood.
The wind whistled in the neighboring bush. It was
Lights-out-dark in my room.
Nobody else, but my heart
Called for my mother
Raising both hands, in blackout-fear.
Though she was
The weakest and oldest one in the whole neighborhood,
I thought that
I was still her full moon.
Translation: Hassanal Abdullah
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