Categories
Poetry

Dusk Descends on the World

Poetry by Masud Khan, translation from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam

MOTHER


In the dust smeared evening
Far away, almost at the margins of the horizon,
The one who is resting all by herself

In a bed laid out under the open sky
Is my mother.
Her bed smells of grass and the antiseptic Dettol.
A tube in her nose supplies her with oxygen,
A saline bottle is attached to her arm,
And she is tied to a catheter too—
It is as if she is getting entangled inextricably
In a jungle of plastic and polythene reeds.

A smoky surreal unreal canopy encircles her bed.

Seemingly after ages, dusk descends on the world,
A few birds and insects form a chorus,
Wailing throatily obscure and dissonant tunes
In amateurish over-excited zeal,
Seeking refuge timorously in that plastic hedge,
At the margin of the horizon,
In the shadow of primeval motherhood.


A FRAGRANT TALE

The world is full of misleading, minus signs and foul smells.

At times, the world feels as heavy and unbearable
As the weight of a son’s dead body on his dad’s shoulder,
Or as stressful as playing the role of a dead soldier,
Or as formidable as a physically challenged person’s ascent up a mountain
Or as painful as caring for a precocious, traumatised child...

Nevertheless, occasionally such stress-laden memories will blur,
And suddenly, wafting on the wind’s sudden mood swing,
A fragrant moment comes one’s way!

Masud Khan (b. 1959) is a Bengali poet and writer. He has, authored nine volumes of poetry and three volumes of prose and fiction. His poems and fictions (in translation) have appeared in journals including Asiatic, Contemporary Literary Horizon, Six Seasons Review, Kaurab, 3c World Fiction, Ragazine.cc, Nebo: A literary Journal, Last Bench, Urhalpul, Tower Journal, Muse Poetry, Word Machine, and anthologies including Language for a New Century: Contemporary Poetry from the Middle East, Asia, and Beyond (W.W. Norton & Co., NY/London); Contemporary Literary Horizon Anthology,Bucharest; Intercontinental Anthology of Poetry on Universal Peace (Global Fraternity of Poets); and Padma Meghna Jamuna: Modern Poetry from Bangladesh(Foundation of SAARC Writers and Literature, New Delhi). Two volumes of his poems have been published as translations, Poems of Masud Khan (English), Antivirus Publications, UK, and Carnival Time and Other Poems (English and Spanish), Bibliotheca Universalis, Romania.  Born and brought up in Bangladesh, Masud Khan lives in Canada and teaches at a college in Toronto.

Fakrul Alam is an academic, translator and writer from Bangladesh. He has translated works of Jibonananda Das and Rabindranath Tagore into English and is the recipient of Bangla Academy Literary Award (2012) for translation and SAARC Literary Award (2012).

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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Categories
Poetry

Fire Engine

Masud Khan’s poem, Dhamkal (Fire Engine), translated from Bengali by Fakrul Alam

Having fled the madhouse, the lunatic darted up the tree.
Nothing would make him come down, he said,
Except for the pleas of that midget-sized nurse!

The nurse came running, quick as a fire engine,
Waving wildly at him. Her gestures were coded messages,
Inducing the lunatic to climb down from the tree top
Just as a koi fish descends on the dining plate.
Entranced by the smell of steaming curry,
He descended easily and freely
As consecutive numbers do when one counts down.

The lunatic’s thoughts flickered across the nurse’s consciousness.

This day that mad man will return once more to his asylum.
Placing his head on the confessional,
He will soundlessly suffer thirteen electric shocks
Designed to induce thirteen confessions from him
At the directive of the calm and composed health priest!

Masud Khan (b. 1959) is a Bengali poet and writer. He has, authored nine volumes of poetry and three volumes of prose and fiction. His poems and fictions (in translation) have appeared in journals including Asiatic, Contemporary Literary Horizon, Six Seasons Review, Kaurab, 3c World Fiction, Ragazine.cc, Nebo: A literary Journal, Last Bench, Urhalpul, Tower Journal, Muse Poetry, Word Machine, and anthologies including Language for a New Century: Contemporary Poetry from the Middle East, Asia, and Beyond (W.W. Norton & Co., NY/London); Contemporary Literary Horizon Anthology,Bucharest; Intercontinental Anthology of Poetry on Universal Peace (Global Fraternity of Poets); and Padma Meghna Jamuna: Modern Poetry from Bangladesh(Foundation of SAARC Writers and Literature, New Delhi). Two volumes of his poems have been published as translations, Poems of Masud Khan(English), Antivirus Publications, UK, and Carnival Time and Other Poems (English and Spanish), Bibliotheca Universalis, Romania.  Born and brought up in Bangladesh, Masud Khan lives in Canada and teaches at a college in Toronto.

Fakrul Alam is an academic, translator and writer from Bangladesh. He has translated works of Jibonananda Das and Rabindranath Tagore into English and is the recipient of Bangla Academy Literary Award (2012) for translation and SAARC Literary Award (2012).

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Poetry

Poetry on Rain by Masud Khan

Translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam

Courtesy: Creative Commons
RAIN - 1 

It’s raining abroad now, in countries close by or far away. 
Occasionally a cold wind from some other land blows this way 
This summer evening brings with it sadness and beauty 
Blowing this way from some distant land!
 
A cold, cold wind keeps blowing
Slowly stirring desire, fomenting longing
For alien rituals on such an evening.
 
In the distance, in a riverbank ruled by beauty
In another land, wonderfully wet in the rain,
Lightning flashes time and again
Stirring desire for one’s lover steadily
Inevitably, on such an evening!
 
Towards my homeland
The cold wind keeps blowing
O my alien lover
Where could you be staying?

RAIN - 2
 
It’s raining
Over distant lands
Over Brahma’s world,
Over Rangpur and Bogra’s vast expanse
In alluvial plains,
The rain veils Burma’s evening fields
And keeps streaming down.
 
And below these lightning flashes,
At the rain-formed night’s third quarter
Radiant races
Spring up at home or abroad
Like hyperactive frogs leaping
Into the unknown.
 
Provoked by thunder and lightning’s violent outbursts, 
Allured by their promises,
In the thick veil 
And swirling stream,
In the darkness of the wet wind, 
In the eastern expanse, 
Underneath the sky
In vast and empty fields
Under the vast spread-out arum fields of the east, 
Incredibly, unformed new nations emerge --
Innumerable unsteady chaotic nations,
Restless, perturbed, incapable of standing up, 
Lending themselves to grotesque maps,
Forming unstable, quivering, permeable boundaries
Governed by ill-defined laws and dwarf impotent ombudsmen 
And armies marching past unimpressively,
They spring for no good reason
And seem destined to be doomed.
 
The night draws to a close. The rain too appears spent. 
When day’s first light breaks out,
Those nations that would thrive and grow
And glow with innumerable rituals and fast-spreading religions 
Feel their bodies disintegrating and disappearing
Under the vast spread-out arum fields of the east.
 
*Rangpur, Bogra— Two small cities in the northern part of Bangladesh

Masud Khan (b. 1959) is a Bengali poet and writer. He has, authored nine volumes of poetry and three volumes of prose and fiction. His poems and fictions (in translation) have appeared in journals including Asiatic, Contemporary Literary Horizon, Six Seasons Review, Kaurab, 3c World Fiction, Ragazine.cc, Nebo: A literary Journal, Last Bench, Urhalpul, Tower Journal, Muse Poetry, Word Machine, and anthologies including Language for a New Century: Contemporary Poetry from the Middle East, Asia, and Beyond (W.W. Norton & Co., NY/London); Contemporary Literary Horizon Anthology,Bucharest; Intercontinental Anthology of Poetry on Universal Peace (Global Fraternity of Poets); and Padma Meghna Jamuna: Modern Poetry from Bangladesh(Foundation of SAARC Writers and Literature, New Delhi). Two volumes of his poems have been published as translations, Poems of Masud Khan(English), Antivirus Publications, UK, and Carnival Time and Other Poems (English and Spanish), Bibliotheca Universalis, Romania.  Born and brought up in Bangladesh, Masud Khan lives in Canada and teaches at a college in Toronto.

Fakrul Alam is an academic, translator and writer from Bangladesh. He has translated works of Jibonananda Das and Rabindranath Tagore into English and is the recipient of Bangla Academy Literary Award (2012) for translation and SAARC Literary Award (2012).

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
Poetry

Hybrid Gems

By Mihaela Melnic

An empirical ocean of unmetrical pearls 
rolled and crawled
like a serpentine
fluid of life
from the unconscious
up to the future's nucleus
where millions 
of bifid pens
are now entwined
with planetary algorithms
and dance in a marvelous 
arabesque

alfa - androgynous voices
spring out turning into
liquefied, crystallized hybrid gems 
endlessly 
taking shape and colour

they are meant to startle and soothe
to mesmerize and haunt
like thorny rainbow roses
that never sting
yet they make the spirit 
bleed

Mihaela Melnic, born in Romania, currently lives and writes in Rome, Italy. Her recent work was published at Dissident Voice, Setu, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and Noiqui. Other poems of hers are forthcoming this summer in different venues. Mihaela’s bilingual debut poetry collection Change of Seasons was released in 2018.

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Categories
Poetry

Happening and more…

By Vasile Baghiu

Happening

Yesterday, I met poetry 
on the stony Loch Long shore,
near Ardpeaton.
The place was empty, and I think
she felt very well as she was: ignored, 
neglected, abandoned among the wood pieces 
and dry sea wracks.
Though I had suspected for some time 
she was not just the kind of a thing written 
on a paper sheet, 
it was at that moment 
I viewed the truth.

The waves looked like real sea;
the breeze, kingfishers, 
the insistent wind bringing clouds, 
by heaps,
carrying them further away, like in 
a movie shown with high speed,
yet other details, not very easy 
to be described - 
all made me recognize her 
from the distance. 

I had my camera close at hand, so I took 
many photos 
thinking to impress my friends later, 
as I knew they would not believe my story.

In the evening, when 
the images were downloaded, 
nothing could be seen 
on the monitor.
I resigned then to sadness and insight,
and I confine myself to write here. 

Still I am sure I really met 
poetry yesterday.

Under Wave

It is as if I were ill sometimes,
feverish, lonely, 
abroad.  

I do not share myself between
me and my own person.

The world swishes inside;
and the heart, 
agreeing secretly with the brain,
makes waves to show I am still alive.

Despite the smile, 
I am not on the wave --
quite under it. 

Maybe I am in vacation
and try to take advantage of
the good weather. 

Striving to be at least 
a part of what I will never be,
I dare not venture too deep
but splash a bit with the oars here,
where I suppose the shore is nearby
helping me feel safe.










I Do Not Write
Today I do not write. 
I wish I could live a bit more than I do 
in normal circumstances. 
I put aside all the pencils and papers,
close the computer
and come into the midday sun. 
I do not write, 
so I go for a walk,
and think of the things 
concerning me closely
these days:
the life at home,
and the new British poetry
at “Bloodaxe”
I spent all the last evening.

This morning I sent e-mails 
to two persons who 
do not get along very well, 
hoping they would make up 
when seeing
they have a mutual friend in me. 

Wordsworth was right: long and solitary 
walks are good for inspiration,
but today I do not write. 
I feel good, but I would not pretend this 
comfortable feeling will infiltrate 
my writing too, 
in case tomorrow I begin
the story again. 

I get a bit more distant from myself
so that I can see me better. 
A fit of laughter seizes me. 

Today I do not write.

(First appeared in the volume Cât de departe a mers/ How Far Have I Gone, 2008)

Vasile Baghiu (b. 1965) is a Romanian writer, author of eight books of poetry, a collection of short stories and three novels published in his country. He has been awarded a few writers-in-residence grants, in Germany, Austria, Scotland and Switzerland. Some of his works have appeared in translation in magazines and anthologies such as Penmen Review, Magma Poetry, Southern Ocean Review, The Orange Room Review, Stellar Showcase Journal, L.A. Melange, Poetry Can, Banipal, Cordite Poetry Review, The Aalitra Review, Bordertown. Co-author of the poetry collection Transatlantic Crossings: The Constant Language of Poetry, (TJMF Publishing, USA, 2006). Vasile had in the past diverse work experiences as a nurse, including a sanatorium. A psychologist and a teacher now, married, he has a daughter and a son. He currently is working simultaneously on a new novel, a new collection of poems and a non-fiction book.