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  বহিষ্কৃত যুবলীগ নেতা ইসমাইল চৌধুরী সম্রাটের জামিন বাতিল করে হাইকোর্টের আদেশ বহাল রেখেছেন আপিল বিভাগ

Five Sonnets of Mohitlal Mojumdar

Translation: Gazi Abdulla-hel Baqui

(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.




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