A straight branch is trying to exchange

feelings with a bent branch keeping their

weight on each other in broad daylight.

 

 

 

Small mangoes in early stage are peeping

through dusty leaves out of inner urge to grow.

 

 

 

The leaves of peepul trees want to cover whole Dhaka

with wild green. With their green hearts

they are winning the capital.

 

 

 

Peepul trees are on the chariot.

All other small trees are leaving space for them.

 

 

 

Everywhere in Dhaka the flags of green are fluttering;

peepul trees seem to be immortal;

none has shown care, nor has anybody shown love

to them, but yet their seeds, carried on bird beaks,

and disregarding the grips of time, are expanding

their green empires everywhere all around.

 

 

 

 

Industrially developed countries with their garbage

are trying to suffocate us, but we have our immortal

peepul trees, we have an immortal book, we have

the power of margosa, we have ripe banyan fruits.

 

Who creates reciprocal love in our heart?

Next generations are born of our tenderness.

We hoist the flags of red and green nonstop.

all over the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

8 March 2005

 

‘প্রকৃতি’ কবিতার অনুবাদ

[Translated by Dulal Al Monsur]