Shamsur Rahman
Date:
Source/Transcription: Mukto-Mona
Translation/Copyright: Syed M. Islam, 2004
HTML Markup: Mike B.
Freedom, you're
Tagore's timeless poetry and everlasting lyrics.
Freedom, you're
Kazi Nazrul, the regally maned magnificent man,
rapturous in creation, oh joy.
Freedom, you're
the radiant gathering at Shahid Minar on Language
Day.
Freedom, you're
the flag-draped, slogan-serenaded boisterous
procession.
Freedom, you're
the farmer amidst his fields, beaming face.
Freedom, you're
the village lass's lightsome swim in mid-day pond.
Freedom, you're
the sinewy muscles on a skilled workman's
sun-bronzed arms.
Freedom, you're
the glint in the eyes of a freedom fighter scouting
the darkened and deserted borders.
Freedom, you're
the crisply-worded, scorching speech of a sprited
scholar beneath the shade of a banyan tree.
Freedom, you're
the tumult of chats in tea-shops, public gathering
and the park.
Freedom, you're
the roaring swoop of kal-boishakhi on the fiery
horizon athwart.
Freedom, you're
the Meghna's heart, swelling shores in the month of
Sraban.
Freedom, you're
the velvety touch, father's chivalrous prayer-mat.
Freedom, you're
the ripples on mother's unadorned sari stretched in
the yard.
Freedom, you're
the hue
of henna on sister's gentle hand.
Freedom, you're
a vivid placard shimmering stars gripped by a
friend.
Freedom, you're
the wife's raven tresses, tempestuous in the untamed
wind.
Freedom, you're:
The colorful kurta on a young boy.
The playful sunlight on a girl's supple cheeks.
Freedom, you're:
The home amidst a flower garden; the warble of
koel-bird.
The twittering leaves of antediluvian banyan trees.
My notebook of poetry, to pen poems as I please.