Poems by Rezauddin Stalin

Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού

Biography: Rezauddin Stalin Bengali
very famous poet. Born in 1962 in Nalbhanga village of Greater Jessore district.
The number of planets is more than a hundred. Got it many local and foreign awards including Bangla Academy. His poems have been translated into 42 languages of the world. Along with poetry he established himself as a successful media personality. His basic thoughts on various issues of the society give us light. Rezauddin Stalin is now the  international voice of Bengali  poetry.

The Brutal Dawn
By-Rezauddin Stalin

The dawn is a brutal lover
Breaking all the windows of the earth it peeps
Bumps on the face of the young women
And licks all smooth glasses

Time flows in the veins
The swain is more committed
Lies on the lap of the young women
And looks for the secret chamber

The afternoon sun descends
In the arteries
The deadly thirst of victory flows in the blood
Through nostrils the red blood cells of mask
Comes running

When night falls the householder  
Keeps pelting the nostalgic baits –  yet the skillful hunter
Open eyes are reluctant to see
Closes the gaze in peace
An infinite silence freezes in the wisdom
Thinks it was a brutal dawn once

Translated by Ashraf Chowdhury  ([email protected])

The Kopotaksha
By-Rezauddin Stalin

When Brahmaputra bent his neck like Kopotaksha and looked at me
The monuments built by the metamorphic rock of thousand years
Rose in my veins with the blood flow of legacy
But I saw the roaring foamy memories now flowing in thin streams torn apart by encroachment
That coast
Just like Kopotakha he has a clay serpent in his hand and the reprimand of downstream on his shoulder
There is no poet who washes off the vicious leftovers
With the slope of blank verse
No Madhusudan who will once again be rejected
From the riverside of Kopotakha
There is no lyricist named Brahmaputra
Who will sacrifice verses
All around the futile yawn of waterless livelihoods and the screams of riverbed across the solitary township
There is no such father Rajnarayan
Who will abandon his son in pride
Mother Janhvi is not there whose tears make the upstream current
This steady unstoppable eclipse and the rule of emptiness
The sign of necropolis is seen in the black eyes of the Kopotaksa
A silent boat resting on the chest of the Brahmaputra –
Suicide of a raped pregnant woman
The paddles are the penises cut off by the oarsmen
There is no woman whose child will be named Kopotaksha
There is no worthy youth whose semen will give birth to Brahmaputra
And the poet Madhusudan who being rejected from the shore
Will compose Meghnad Vadh of his great pain

Translated by Ashraf Chowdhury ([email protected])

This Flow of Blood
By-Rezauddin Stalin

Blood drips from sword on the ground
From chin to feet
From chest to the river Bramaputra
From the ground to the stars
This flow of blood is
Red black silent and cruel
Crossing The Padma The Meghna The Yamuna, the flow joins The Bay of Bengal
The current will be flowing through time infinite
The struggle will be enriched in floods and sediment

The blood is on the crest of the wave – in the foams
This blood flow arises from the heart
Breaking the cycle of day and night
Running after the movements
The blood is in the skull of visible green
In the light of the sun – in the eyes of the helmet
Immolation of blood – of animals and nature

Resistance is at the feet of dream
No one knows
Where the blood stream will stabilize
In which country, at what time
In between whose palms burned with tears
In the alphabets

Translated byAshraf Chowdhury ([email protected]