Seeing the birth of some poems in the Bangladesh 21st February

 

I did not cry, I got the hang of the demand

I did not cry, I came to demand the gallows, poetry is the first poem written on language movement. This poem is also called Ekushey Poetry. On 21st Feb, 1952, the poem was written by Bhashainik Mahbub Ul Alam Chowdhury. In the evening of February 21, 1955, in the procession of student-crowd in Dhaka demanded state language Bangla. In the evening, the poet poem Mahabub-ul-Alam Chowdhury wrote poetry written in Chittagong. Ekushey’s poem has mixed with the history of many sacrifices.

 

 

Those who wanted to ban my mother language

I demanded the hanging for them.

For those who ordered this accident happened

Demanding the hanging.

Those who want to hang on this body

The power has climbed to the seats

For those traitors.

I want to see them judge

At that particular place in the open ground

The convicted were shot in the arm

My country wants to see

 

They are forty or more

The people who have died, under the sunny sunshine of Krishnachur tree

For languages, for mother language, for Bangla

The people who have died there

For the dignity of a great culture of a country

Alaol’s Tradition

Kaikobad, Rabindranath and Nazrul

For literature and poetry

The people who have died there

Palabpur Maqbool Ahmad

For the punch, for the construction of Ramesh Shil

For Jasimuddin’s Sojan Bundari Ghat

Who gave life

Bhatili Baul Kirtan Ghazal

Nazrul ‘authentic than pure gold

The soil of my country ‘

 

O my dead brothers,

On that day, your voice from silence

Strong shout of freedom

Will come out

That day the people of our country

The murderer is hanged on the hangar

Hanging on

Your hope will burn like a flame

Revenge and the joy of victory.

 

Alphabet, my sad alphabet

-Shamsur Rahman

Blinking flags like stars have been in my power.

Mamta named Peet Province’s Shyamalima

Roy always surrounds you closely

Black nights in the post-pheayaye chaulai-childhood

Madan Mohan argues that ‘birds are all robbers’

The call was always in front of the call.

You and I have been continuously compassionate,

He turned his dances into the canyon, where all the kusumakali boiled

All inclusive sign

You are my companion,

I gave you a dream bridge,

That is why Trilok is today a sunanda ship, in my port.

Seeing the muddy glass of water in the water

In the hope of colorful fishes, it was cut by the rod.

Remember, cut the design with scissors, cut paper and bottle caps

When I am ‘smiling happy’ by ferry

I reached the gate of the Ratnavipa compass.

You come in my sleeping garden

He jumped out of a huge tree

Come down, come as a scabby, from the full clouds

Shaking the ocean in the wheel,

The farthest pathshala is similar to a green face

Twice in the queue or chuckle-lips beating again and again

How do you give up in the dreamland of Chaitanya?

You have an eyebrow in my eyeballs.

In the fire of war, the brutal killer

In the rainy season, in rainy season

Necklace of Urgent Nupur

Bondage

Hate with hatred, screams of despair

Falgun to the creation, O my friends

You are always awakened awake.

If you are uprooted, tell me but what is mine?

The killings of some young people of the 1973 Bahnouro

I am proud to be proud of the cheerful grandfather. She is a petal of flowers today

I will not tear anyone

Now you are surrounded by a big orgy in the bedroom

Now you have the dirty disgust with you

Now you are surrounded by pistachios and pheasants.

Look no further on your face today,

Alphabet, my sad alphabet.

 

 

February 1969

Author: Shamsur Rahman

In February 1969, the poem has sparked a protest movement. Here the poet gave importance to self-consciousness of the people. The general public was the tool of this protest. In this poem, the significance of the jiban’s philosophy was unveiled.

The Pakistani rulers of 1969 were described in the poem by the brutal torture, autocratic attitude and inhuman cruelty, the destruction of Maonbikta in East Bengal.

 

Looked forward again in the city of Kishchhura Thar

How intensive it is Sometimes or never in the procession

It seems like going to walk alone – not flowers, they are

Martyr’s blood bubbles, full of membrane.

Ekushey Krishnachura is the color of our consciousness.

In contrast to this color there are other colors,

The color that does not take good eyes, the color that brings terror

In our daily routine we find ourselves in the morning and evening

Now she is covered with paint, the whole country

Evil assassin of the killer

I and many people like me are just like me

No one dies in the ghats of the ghats of night and day, half dead,

Someone is very stubborn, bursting in a great revolution. Around

The human garden, the Kamlaban is being tossed.

I understand that in the nineteen nonsense

Again the road to Salam, the flag made of zero,

Barkat’s book on the front of the killer

Salam’s eyes today in Dhaka,

The face of salam is today Shyamal East Bengal

I saw, on the highway, we all saw

Public

I looked like a star from Salam

The indefinite alphabet

And with bold utterance of blessing

In the tears of sad mother still in the blood of the hero

Flowers in the huge square of flowers

In the heart valley of the heart. That flower is our life,

Thrilled and joyous sunshine and shadow of sorrow

 

 

What would you like me to give, give me?

What would you like me to give, give me?

Nirmalendu Quality

 

I’ll be immortal under your feet,

What would you like me to give, give me?

 

Take this, my dowry, one-breasted blood promise

Drying the unstable soul in the flood of water, I too will be flooded,

Just chop the chopped hand once in the forehead.

I will flutter in the water-space,

Lift your feet down to the mountains.

I’m going to be immortal, what will I give to you?

 

 

Toe finger

36 thoughts on “Seeing the birth of some poems in the Bangladesh 21st February

  1. Pingback: DISCOVER Poems

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