(for Rotho Rafi)
"Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to."
– Bob Dylan
Yes, I remember sitting on the sidewalk
you said darkness has got a single job –
to darken all your areas of enchanting light,
and your childhood spent seeing in the village
the clay go crazy to the wheel's rhythm
but it ain't your fate that never turns.
(Hey mister, there will never be a fiddler for you,
fiddling tunes as sung to happy twangs
as you might have been in carnivals.)
Now I see you trace the trails of sorrows,
yet all I have to say like a doctor is Push,
not to a lady in labour but you in the gloom.
Being so simply swept away by despair,
you like a recluse look away from life,
thinking you do belong to the craziest of cranks,
then all of a sudden comparing yourself
to a cloud up high in the pale-blue sky
or an eagle soaring against the twilight saffron.
All I have to say is – why not Push yourself
to all the territories so far untrodden,
to all the limits of life so far unexplored,
in search of ripples on the pool of rapture
or the last drops of water left for thirst,
outstaring all the Gorgons' stony stare?
Poetry by Sofiul Azam
Read 913 times
Written on 2006-10-11 at 08:42
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