Death of Bird
The poem was first created in Bengali in 2008, Hindi version came on May 8, 2019, and today May 9, I am presenting the English version for my dear friends who cannot read either Hindi or Bengali
The small bird comes out of the egg,
Bubbling, jumping, singing, feel the sky.
Gets the sweet voice, chirps our melody,
Makes the divine sound, the sound of nature.
Sings the song of life,
Gets to power in the wings,
Floats in the sky, over the mountains.
Over the earth, in the blue, divine sky.
Witnesses the creations of the creator,
Witnesses the beauty of nature, the forest
Of the land, the river, the seas.
Nothing is impure, nothing is corrupted by the creator.
The Bird sees down, Oh, it is the earth.
Earth, created by the same creator,
Marred by violence, violent race,
Race, not to be the first, Race to kill.
Ready to kill, ready to burn,
The race to win, only win,
The small bird, with music in her voice,
Eager to spread the rhythm, spread the sound,
Singing to soothe the heart, and the soul,
Singing to love the people, and all.
Thinks all love his music,
Plans, drown all in his music,
Targets, fill, all in the love of his music,
Wants to spread the love of the creator around.
Sings his song, spreads the sweetness,
Rings the bell of nature, of clouds, of rains.
Carries the voice of God, of Allah, of Ishwar,
Mesmerizing, calming, music, the sound of music.
Oh, these men, Oh this earth,
Who is this bird? How it dares to sing?
I love Fire, The Killing, The calamity,
Who is this small bird, How dare it ...
The fire is lit, it leaps up,
Leaps up, up and up, engulf the little bird.
The wings burn, the body turns to ashes,
The last sound beeps up in the horizon,
Give me a drop of water,
No, not to quench the thirst,
To wash my ashes,
Just to wash my ashes.
***************************
The poem was first created in Bengali in 2008, Hindi version came on May 8, 2019, and today May 9, I am presenting the English version for my dear friends who cannot read either Hindi or Bengali
The small bird comes out of the egg,
Bubbling, jumping, singing, feel the sky.
Gets the sweet voice, chirps our melody,
Makes the divine sound, the sound of nature.
Sings the song of life,
Gets to power in the wings,
Floats in the sky, over the mountains.
Over the earth, in the blue, divine sky.
Witnesses the creations of the creator,
Witnesses the beauty of nature, the forest
Of the land, the river, the seas.
Nothing is impure, nothing is corrupted by the creator.
The Bird sees down, Oh, it is the earth.
Earth, created by the same creator,
Marred by violence, violent race,
Race, not to be the first, Race to kill.
Ready to kill, ready to burn,
The race to win, only win,
The small bird, with music in her voice,
Eager to spread the rhythm, spread the sound,
Singing to soothe the heart, and the soul,
Singing to love the people, and all.
Thinks all love his music,
Plans, drown all in his music,
Targets, fill, all in the love of his music,
Wants to spread the love of the creator around.
Sings his song, spreads the sweetness,
Rings the bell of nature, of clouds, of rains.
Carries the voice of God, of Allah, of Ishwar,
Mesmerizing, calming, music, the sound of music.
Oh, these men, Oh this earth,
Who is this bird? How it dares to sing?
I love Fire, The Killing, The calamity,
Who is this small bird, How dare it ...
The fire is lit, it leaps up,
Leaps up, up and up, engulf the little bird.
The wings burn, the body turns to ashes,
The last sound beeps up in the horizon,
Give me a drop of water,
No, not to quench the thirst,
To wash my ashes,
Just to wash my ashes.
***************************
Worth reading both in Hindi and English. Conveys the views of the author befittingly.
ReplyDeleteKeep it up.