Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Biography: Poet Sohel Majhar took birth in 10 December in 1976 at the Niguary Madhyapara (hafej bari), Pagla, upozella Gafargaon, district of Mymensingh.
He earned the higher education Honours and Masters in Management in Jagannath University. Studies P-hd at Jahangirnogor University.Now he is in a profession as a professor in Bormy Degree College in Sreepur of Gazipur. He is also a Liberation war researcher.
published books
1. Joler Chobol Tant Ghorer Noksha. (Book of poetry)
2. Montro Banshir Badok.(Book of poetry)
3. Gafargaon in the Liberation War.
4. History Of Liberation War of Mymensingh
District.
6. National Context of Liberation War and Pagla Thana.
He is also an editor of literary magazine ‘Kashpata’
He writes poems and articles regularly in national papers and periodicals.
Soldier’s Sleep by Sohel Majhar
I’m that the dead soldier
In a distant dream or oblivion
Because of wealth, glory and power
I fell a sleep in bunker.
In an unstitched scene of traditional silent film
The leafy flute is played on after a combat
Running behind the butterflies
The boy is looking forward to the exciting moment
And growing up
that the boy fell into the maze of uniforms.
There’s no citizenic dialogue in stitched lips
But he also carries a fear of death terror
He can’t bathe in the lake
But he digs the lake of blood
Noons of Summer aren’t only for thirst
But moaning
He yearns cool-sweet lake in moaning sleep.
Translated by Alam Mahbub.
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Sources of Rains by Sohel Majhar
Like an old relationships
Rain can dissolve even today.
The river dies by touching of incursive wing
How many towns were lost in the abyss
And even today, the legendary song of river
Flowing by the foamy bubbles
But in human blood memory awaken serially.
Not in rain stream, only stay as a bird
Prostately bow down in thousands time
Then you know what’s the lonely feather
In a suspicious of secretly relationship
And doubt trembles with the glory touches.
Translated by Alam Mahbub.
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Informal by Sohel Majhar
Without being imprisoned me
In confines of informalities.
The one who keeps alive invisiblely every day
I salute to her from afar.
A sudden tremor in chest by the train whistle
The sound of love spread far and wide
But the rail runs parallel to.
She is mine the beauty of limb
And the anguish of the sea
The warm of thermit in the straw of the winter
So I extended the insidious rose to her.
Translated by Alam Mahbub
