Seventy One

Obayed Akash

Raindrops are trickling down a war-ravaged tree

The world of gushing blood enters the whole forest

Nights are sucking blood, bathing in blood, basking in blood-

Outside was Seventy One all alone

With his whole body wounded, bloodstained.

The baited breath is drizzling along

As heaps of corpses are breathing torrentially.

The night of raped dignity is wriggling

All over the body of March

The sunset has rained down upon the green grass on the island

On the war front is Seventy One

With heroic guerrillas and fighting women

Gushing out from his body.

Bangladesh is moving a bit her body

Constricted in the Python embrace.

All over the paddy field is soft, muted greenery

The sun is rushing ahead with an inevitable red

From the wilderness has flown out

The sounding winged bird of the word.

Translator: Liton Chakraborty Mithun

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