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Modern Poetry>Fazlul Haque Tuhin

Fazlul Haque Tuhin Something is There in Home Something is there in home While passing times there feel I ease, comfort, free of worries and anxieties Like a sailing boat of cloud in the blue sea. Rains of tiredness, doubt, troubles, impatience, fear and hesitation Doesnít at all cast off in my heart. While going out in the paths of the world I sense somebody calling me from homeĖ Ebb tide sings in my blood. Feel it when I walk upstreamĖ Something pulls me, continues to pullÖ Source of all peace is there it seems Something is there in home. Is that a shelter of growing up in affection of mom and control of dad? Or is it the company of relativesí lovely faces Attraction to living in small atmosphere Pleasure of wandering in the compound bathing in moon rays Comfort of the shade of the young Korai tree Happiness conveyed by dreaming breeze in the windows of the east and south Sparrowsí joy of freedom on the branch of pomegranate that I planted To enjoy sunshine and rains sitting on verandah Or is it the weather in my blood mixed up with my infallible fate? Canít I grasp what is there in home Only I know my home is the sun and I am the obedient planet moving round it, Making exception to it creates revolt in my blood.

In the Assembly Under the Moon The day has breathed last, now itís the time of night. Leaving all your business, restlestness, unhappiness and worthless work, come here in this grassy green field. All arounds thereís the vigilance of pine trees, no fear from machines. In the assembly of bats, there is only the soundless desolation. To-night is the bright assembly of the moon-- a heavenly assembly. Itís been a meeting place of moonlight surrounding the ocean of blue. Come in the green field, the assembly will commence very now. The field and the blue will lose their colour in the tide of moonlight. Those whose hearts have turned into coal being burnt in the sun, those who have been the waste land suffering from the diseases of sin, come in the assembly under the moon. Come, all the creators all poets all artists all lovers all thinkers all the people of the soil, come here. Letís purify our souls diving into the ocean of moonlight. May our lives be the current of welfare. May the sin of the urban mind put out or burn or fall off being Khona in the law of seasons. Come in the green of the field, in the tide of moonlight. Come in the deluge of pleasure, in the assembly under the moon. Only donít come, the traders, the intellectuals. Donít come, the doctors, the police Donít come, the politicians, the armies. Donít come, the lawers, the journalists. Donít come, the officers, the hero-heroines. Donít come, the diplomats, the warriors. Donít come, the think-tanks, the professors. Remain, they all, five hundred yards far away from this assembly. Go, they all, to the bright assembly of darkness, burn your hearts there. Translation: Sayeed Abubakar
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Readers' Comments :

comment : 1
"Home, sweet Home" - ya , that's what home means. I never did think 
in such way before reading the poem Something is there in Home.
Thanks to the poet Fazlul Haque Tuhin for composing such outstaning 
poem. The translation is also superbly done by my favourite Sayeed Vai.
(-Md Nazmul Haque)

comment : 2
If the police, politicians, diplomats and  the think-tanks
are not invited to the Assembly Under the Moon,
how their purification will take place ? So let them also come 
in. I also eagerly want to go to the moonlight assembly under the 
open sky with the poet.  Am I invited ? 
(-Rezaul Karim, Lecturer in Bangla)
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