(Mohitlal Majumdar (26 October 1888 – 26 July 1952) was an eminent author in the history of Bangla literature. He was a great poet but, subsequently, became better known as a literary critic. He graduated in arts in 1908 from Ripon College, Kolkata. He began his career as a teacher at Calcutta High School in 1908. He joined University of Dhaka, as lecturer in Bangla and Sanskrit Departments in 1928 and retired from there in 1944. In Bangla he composed a good number of beautiful sonnets. Only five of them are rendered here.)
Imagination
What poet writes of, what painter paints—
It is not only imagination; it also belongs to the world!
The two have seen that with their eyes—
Confounded in surprise, so they time and again
Want to portray it in many forms, in many a time
Injecting into it rhythm beauty and music-arts.
That truth, that beauty is so boundless—
From life’s dawn to dusk, all day long,
The poet failed to portray it in many colours and times,
Imagination also accepting defeat stayed to wallow!
That truth is so great,—where the poet’s imagination
Turns Scanty, the brush grows worn-out!
The poet dies wailing, the artist listless;
We say more than it—it is only imagination.
Dawn
Have you beheld new leaves in branches of trees—
Like delicate flowers, copper-coloured, very soft and thin?
Have you ever observed around the elegant neck of a young girl
The bashful glow? Has the heart conquered a baby’s beautiful face—
A flash of its moment’s smile, its tearful eyes for a moment?
Have you ever gazed golden rays at the top of the sun setting—
The moon-digit of the third fortnight, the moment’s darkness lifted?
Then you have exchanged glances with dawn.
Anything soft delicate, and more like this that fades instantly—
That heart-ravishing lustre of the moment—that is called dawn;
Once it giving itself up fills in the casket of memory—
And that very gold-spot in the touchstone of mind!
That is not the gem of mine—the earth’s eternal ornament!
That is the kiss on the day’s mouth at the playful hour of parting night!
Child of Nectar
The silent moonlit night, along the village path
The traveller walks on alone singing of his own mind;
The tree-walls of the forest are as if standing
On the two sides—roofless!—the sky high up,
The lustrous moon and stars come into view.
None is present, anywhere! On the earth the path
Has stretched out long afar!—Today his heart
Does not want to know how long it will take
To reach home! He has on his journey to the unknown
Singing songs openheartedly looking upwards!
After the setting of the hot sun of weary day—
His life after turning into a song enters a traceless state!
‘You are the children of Nectar! Remembering hymns’
A mixed feeling of delight and dejection filled my eyes.
Draupodi
Alas! As if I die in shame recalling you, O the princess of Panchalas!
How can she pride herself on having five husbands be a chaste!
She is even-minded for all—all are her husbands,
Immutable, equable—the basket of chastity!
So in Mahabharata she burning masculinity
Inaugurated own self as an actress-figure for the heroes.
No—you are a woman, love bows down to you
From a distance—you waving your fore finger
Bid it adieu. You are a only wife of heroes—
Where are your womanhood and love?
Then, O a paragon of beauty, would you be able
To achieve the fame of chastity—almost like infamy?
You did not love any one, O the consort pleasing five,
It is your chastity which is absolutely meaningless!
Flowers and Birds
Flowers of spring, and birds of spring—
One of the two falls down in severe heat of the sun,
The two only belong to a day of full moon,
They pass sweet spring night on the branches.
With eyes wide open, time halts for a moment
Yet it cannot be deceived even for a brief span of time!
Life shivers—for the deadly greed for beauty, honey-perfume
Hugs deaths veiling worn-out body in dusty ground!
The soft life of flowers bedims in the wink of an eye,
Their life-time vanishes as the rains ceases! It is only
The sport of beauty of shade and light, piled-up-colours
In foggy incense! Almost like foamy bubbles
The moment it blooms in the green sea, it fades away!
The mind-bees forget it after sucking honey.
Dr. Gazi Abdulla-hel Baqui, poet, writer, translator, and a university professor, has already authored twenty books and a great number of poems, (including haiku and rubaiyat), articles and stories. He has been published nationally and internationally and awarded internationally for his poetic accomplishments.
