Like A Shell

She was lying on her side... and me Conjured this evening casting my own shadow Into the colt blood - as the birds dreamt. From scene, the blood, the bird... The distance gets wider, but my mother was The primal sister of the mud. There, the place where I saw her before my birth... In an unknown rainy land... That story fades, vanishes from the stage. The one who was awakened in the dream... and Her songs! Was it heard at least once? My mother didn't have that memory - So, I created this souvenir in my Deep sleep - on the wings of forgetfulness, As the rivers never remember the happenings. But whatever I recall, or I don't Wouldn't be important at all - I didn't have any talk with My mother 'bout what I've just told - She was in the moving cloud - She was lying in the side scene... and I Created this sadness in the hidden life Mistakenly trusting someone else's presence - like the shells. So, the tear, too, knew more about Agriculture - like my mother, the eldest sister of crops. (Translation from Bengali: Hassanal Abdullah)