Literary Editor

এইনার মার গুডমুন্ডসন (জন্ম ১৯৫৪) একজন প্রতিভাধর ঔপন্যাসিক, ছোট গল্প লেখক এবং কবি। পাশাপাশি সামাজিক দৃষ্টিভঙ্গি সম্পূর্ণ একজন নিবেদিত কর্মী। তিনি যুদ্ধ পরবর্তী সময়ে জন্মগ্রহণকারি বহুল অনূদিত আইসল্যান্ডীয় লেখকদের একজন, হাস্যকর শৈলী ও গীতিকাব্য সুলভ গল্পকার। তার লেখায় রাজধানীতে শহুরে সংস্কৃতি বৃদ্ধির বর্ণনা চিত্র পাওয়া যাবে এবং তার জন্ম দেয়া চরিত্রগুলো কখনো কখনো অতিরঞ্জিত মনে হতে পারে।

গুডমুন্ডসন তার কাজের জন্য অসংখ্য পুরষ্কার এবং স্বীকৃতি পেয়েছেন । তন্মধ্যে ১৯৯৫ সালে নর্ডিক কাউন্সিল সাহিত্য পুরষ্কার, নরওয়েজিয়ান বিওরসন পুরস্কার এবং ডেনমার্ক থেকে স্কার্নবার্গ স্মৃতি পুরস্কার, কারেন ব্লিক্সেন পদক (ডেনিশ একাডেমির সম্মানসূচক পুরষ্কার) এবং ইতালি হতে জিউসেপ একারবি সাহিত্য পুরষ্কার ।

সাহিত্যে তার অবদানের জন্য ২০১২ সালে, এইনার মার গুডমুন্ডসন 'লিটল নোবেল' খ্যাত সুইডিশ একাডেমির নর্ডিক পুরস্কার অর্জন করেন। সুইডিশ একাডেমির ২০০ বছর পূর্তি উদযাপন উপলক্ষে ১৯৮৬ সালে সুইডিশ একাডেমি নর্ডিক পুরষ্কার প্রবর্তন করে। সাহিত্যে অথবা সুইডিশ ভাষায় উল্লেখযোগ্য অবদাননের জন্য নর্ডিক দেশগুলির মধ্যে হতে একজন লেখককে এই পুরষ্কার প্রদান করা হয়।

 

Einar Már Guðmundsson (b.1954) is a gifted novelist, short story writer and a poet, as well as a dedicated activist with a social vision. He is one of the most widely translated Icelandic authors born in the post-war period. A storyteller with a lyrical perceptive and humorous style, his work charts the growth of urban culture in the capital and the larger-than-life characters that it spawns.

Guðmundsson has received numerous awards and recognition for his work, amongst them the Nordic Council Literary Prize in 1995, The Norwegian Bjørnson Prize and the Scharnberg Memorial Award in Denmark, The Karen Blixen Medal (an honorary award from the Danish Academy) and The Guiseppe Acerbi Literary Prize in Italy.

In 2012 Einar Mar Guðmundsson received the Swedish Academy’s Nordic Prize, dubbed “the little Nobel”, for his contribution to literature. The Swedish Academy Nordic Prize was created in 1986 to celebrate the Swedish Academy’s 200 year’s anniversary. It is awarded to individuals in one of the Nordic Countries that have made remarkable contributions to literature or Swedish language.

 

Bengali Translated by Tareq Samin

 

হতাম যদি নষ্ট টেলিভিশন

 

হতাম যদি নষ্ট টেলিভিশন,

নিশ্চয়ই আমি

আরো ঝামেলা সৃষ্টি করতাম

তোমার জীবনে

 

 

If I was a damaged TV

If I was a damaged TV

I would most certainly

cause more disturbance

in your lives

Translated by Michael Dean Óðinn Pollock

 

 

মধ্যবয়সী দম্পতি

 

বসার ঘরে ওরা বসে থাকে

খুব কাছাকাছি,

কিন্তু কিছুই হয়ে ওঠেনা ওদের মঝে

নিজেদের আলাদা করে রাখার তৃপ্তিটুকু বাদে

 

Middle-aged couple

They hang around in the living room

like a sandwich but there is nothing

between them except the contentment

that separates them

Translated by Bernard Scudder

 

 

 

প্রিয়তমার জন্য কবিতা

 

২০০০ বছর পর

যখন প্রত্নতাত্ত্বিকেরা আমাদের হাড় করবে খনন

সম্ভবত তখন জাতীয় জাদুঘরে আমরা সহবাস করবো

 

Poem for my sweetheart

After approximately 2000 years

when archaeologists dig up our bones

perhaps we could make love in the National Museum

Translated by Michael Dean Óðinn Pollock

 

 

আমি থামতে পারি না

  

আমি শুধু থেমে যেতে পারি না

তোমার ঠোঁটের কোণে 

যদিও তারা লাল

ট্র্যাফিক লাইটের মতো 

 

 

I just can’t stop 

I just can’t stop

at the corner of your lips

even though they are red

like traffic lights 

Translated by Michael Dean Óðinn Pollock

 

 

রুশ বিপ্লব

 

রাশিয়ার বিপ্লব

একটি পারিবারিক অ্যালবামের মতো

যেটি আমরা ছুঁয়ে যাই না জেনে

কে এই ফটোগুলো তুলেছে এবং এমনকি

সন্দিহান ছবির লোকগুলো কে

শুধুমাত্র একটি জিনিস নিশ্চিত:

ফ্রাঙ্কেনস্টাইন শেষ পর্যন্ত ক্ষমতায় এসেছিল।

 

The Russian Revolution

The Russian revolution

is like a family album that

we thumb through without knowing who

took the photos and it’s even doubtful who they are

of

only one thing’s certain:

Frankenstein came to power in the end

Translated by Bernard Scudder.

 

 

ক্রিসমাসের কবিতা 


বাইবেলে বর্ণিত নিষ্পাপ মেষশাবক

ক্রিসমাস উৎসবে পরিণত হয় ভেড়ার মাংসের চপ

 

Poem for Christmas 

The innocent lambs of the Bible

become lambchops at Christmas 

Translated by Michael Dean Óðinn Pollock

 

 

 

HATRED AND LOVE

 

When hatred spreads the fire of division among men

Logic and intellect lose its way ;

Then ; Come O mind,

O deprived human life

Lets bath in the love’s stream.

Love, only love can

destroy the giant power of hatred,

So come today

lets love and respect each other,

There is the dire need of love, among mankind.

 

 

REMEMBERING MAHATMA GANDHI

 

Your thin body still stimulate us

for non-violent movement,

Your meditative heart, tranquil, silent living

motivating millions of peace-loving people.

You are in our hearts!

Abreast all of our life’s decrepitating,

I still love you,

Mahatma Gandhi.

Although we now atrocious, false

vulgarism and accustomed to wickedness,

But our heart got touch of encouragement

In your words.

Yet to, killings and painting of human blood continued

in the rooms of politics,

I still remember you Mahatma

You are across our heart.

 

 

 

FOR LOVE AND HUMANITY

 

New or old

What rottenness in the pore to pore of the society

Our pen will write that words.

We are not against anyone

We are for everyone.

Who want brotherhood, affinity and love.

Who want smile and joy, embracing, mixing and

love among the mankind.

We are against those who spread hatred, jealousy

among the mankind.

who erect the wall of division among the man.

We fight against the people who fuel the killing and

terror among the mankind.

We fight against ferocity, barbarism,

and inhumanity.

We fight for love, humanity and humanity

as a whole.

Five poems of SERKAN ENGIN

 

Socialist Laz-Turk poet and author Serkan Engin was born in 1975 in Izmit, Turkey.

His poems and articles on poetry theory have appeared in more than fifty literary journals in Turkey. In 2004, he published a poem manifesto, entitled Imagist Socialist Poetry. He has been trying to launch a new movement in Turkish poetry and to this end has published numerous articles about literary theory.


His poems and articles on poetry theory have been published in English in many international literary journals and art/poetry web sites all over the world like The Tower Journal, Poetry'z Own, Belleville Park Pages, The Wagon Magazine, Far Enough East, Split Infinitive Lit Magazine, Empty Mirror, The Writer’s Drawer, Poetry Super Highway, Margutte, Miracle E-zine, Industry Night Lit Magazine, Open Road Review, Shot Glass Journal, The Criterion, Mediterranean Poetry, etc. Some of his poems appeared in Japanese in the leading Japanese philosophy and poetry journal Shi to Shisou. Also his poems and articles on poetry theory have been translated into Italian, Spanish, Swedish, Armenian, Azerbaijani, Persian, Bengali, Kurdish, Zazaki, Romaic and Lazish.

Some of his poems in English have been accepted to international thematic poetry anthologies.

 

 

GHAZAL TO PERA BELLE

 

Love is now a torn paper sea, its blue missing

I never ask from where a pair of hazel eyes you fail to efface catches fire

 

The sky topples down on our lives, smearing thin letters on our flesh

Lame birds keep bleeding onto the G clef of loneliness

 

Now my body is a ruined wall I scratch with razors on my dreams

Who silences such disappointment, I know not

 

Only vague poems I stitch to my mute life can redeem me

No matter how many times I turn around myself, my jumbled days go on stammering

 

Now my skin is an unrhymed verse without your hands

I never ask from where a pair of hazel eyes you fail to efface catches fire

 

 

BROTHEL TRAUMA

 

In the rooms full of

decayed-dream scent

the oldness of the doors

opens to a wet disappointment

fake orgasm symphonies permeated into the walls

arabesque slogans are spelled on the mirrors.

 

The woman is the rebel acrobat

of pain on the barbed wires

strained between life and death

she stitches up the torn desires at her pubic

passes through the nitric acidic nights

as laying her head on the shoulder of hope

dirty banknotes occupy

the rough geography of lust.

 

 

DELAYED SALESLADY

 

My hair is darkening to a lengthy loneliness

lava has touched my lips, you consider as lipstick

I have propped my heart against the lights of the showcase

My tenuous dreams are hung on the shelves

 

There is a falling star in my night-patterned eyes

All my wishes drop down to the floor and they are dispersed

My legs are as cold as my poverty at the bus stops

My missed youth is trickling through my eyelashes

 

: My delayed desires are my dowery

 

 

ABUSED LETTERS OF HOPE

 

I was born to loop my balmy

dreams to your bleeding verses

born to shout your childhood fads

lost in a mute hell in front of everybody

 

I am the delicous revenge of all molested children

spilling their pain into the purple shores of Orpahanage

I am the handsome anger of all neglected buds

blooming on the lapel of Oppression

 

-Which holiness protected your most child letters

written on the skies of Hope!

Where was Jesus, where was Allah, where was Brahma and all others!

 

Tiny gardens of your short-length lives

occupied by the rivers of Fear round the clock

Your purity was hunted mercilessly

by the neighbour ravens of your helpless meadows

 

-Which holiness protected your most child letters

written on the skies of Hope!

Where was Jesus, where was Allah, where was Brahma and all others!

 

I am the delicious revenge of all molested children

spilling their pain into the purple shores of Orpahanage

I am the handsome anger of all neglected buds

blooming on the lapel of Oppression

  

MY FAMILY(!) and DIALECTIC

My father is what I reduce from as I run to myself
While dressing up from head to foot with sun flowers
Football and beer are making free oscillation
In his brain having no curl
He has equivalent fear from police and God
Never knew that he grew himself to nihility

- Hey buddy, where is here, Nazareth or Izmit
My father and pragmatism crucified my youth

My mother was a purple thorn pricking in my life
Property greed and anger
Without compass lie on her heart
She has more faith in money than God
Never knew that she grew herself to nihility

- Hey buddy, where is here, Nazareth or Izmit
My mother and capitalism crucified my youth

HAN, SUNG REA / (한성례(韓成禮) Born in 1955 Korea. Poet, Translator(Japanese-Korean). Adjunct professor. She majored in Japanese language and Japanese literature at Sejong University and earned her master's degree in Japanese studies at Sejong University's graduate school. Her works have earned her the Newcomer Award of <Poem and Consciousness>, Korea's the Heonanseolheon Literature Award and Japan's Sitosozo Award. Book of Poetry The Beauty in a Laboratory, Smiling flowersin Korean, The Sky in the Yellowish Red Korean Skirt,

Drama of the Lightin Japanese. Historical essay The Formation of the Ancient Nation in Japan and Japanese oldest anthology Manyo-shuand so on. Her poems express Korean tradition, life and death, sadness, pain and anguish in surrealism, modernism and avant-garde forms. She translated many Japanese literary works into Korean and many Korean literary works into Japanese.

This work includes more than 200 volumes, for example, poems, novels, essays, poem anthologies, books for children, humanity books, self enlightenment books and scientific books. In particular, she translated many poems and Book of Poetry between Korea and Japan. Korean textbooks used in Korean high schools contain several translations of her for educational purposes. She has translated and introduced Korean and Japanese poems in literary magazines between the two countries since 1990. She is an adjunct professor at Sejong Cyber University.

 

 

 

Pair-Bond Snakes

  

They are devouring each others tails

Sun goes down a little

It is the time that a brain stem moves reversely

They eat each other’s body from the tails slowly

By a sense left on the bottom of the instinct

With the latch of the unconscious unlocked

As if they get mesmerized by each other

They grow short at the same rate

The loop become stronger while they become shorter

They gobble symbols, notions, and satiety

Two pair of snakes get shorter and shorter infinitely

To be rounded out

Sucking each other’s scarlet blood

They are completed as a great circle

Two pair of snakes that are taking each other’s body eternally

Red sun

Falls into the sea this moment

 

 

Hometown Well

  

To accumulate blood, women’s bodies suffer an ache

Earth makes underground water circulated through its whole body

And wombs are always burning

By the fever of blood opening its own ways to gather

Once a month, for replacing water

Women gather around the well

 

And in the middle of rice field of my hometown

That is afraid to be focused by many eyes

There is the well of my childhood

That has a wide open hole towards the sky

Women are pumping up water

To let their heated body cool

 

Sin that everybody has kept in the secret at least one

The hotness that blazed up in mind helplessly

Cold water that soaks to the bone even in the middle of summer

Hometown well where we pumped water up with a gourd

 

Around the well

The existences who commit crimes at the previous life

Crawly gather together

And all of them are hanging or are standing on their hands

As a shape of small stringy snakes, a huge serpents and vipers

The well side where they cooled off their body at the former life

They show up there following their blissful crimes,

Even unavoidable due to their moistened bodies

 

A husband who was affected by leprosy and went away to the island

A baby whose father was her husband’s brother

A woman who threw her baby into the well

A young widow with

A father of her husband who had lived alone since he was young

A moistened woman, women

 

The well side in my memory

Is overflowing with thousands rumors even in my dreams

 

 

 

The planet conceiving a few lies

 

Is the devil a man who deceive someone

With a little bit of truth that a great untruth combined

 

A word that is born a moment ago is lighter than a dandelion

A word that is buried waits her own resurrection on the wind path

A word that is missing threw herself a long ago

 

The spring has come like investigating something, but it is not the real one.

A noon that sun is blazing like midsummer

Full bloom of roses take season’s false pulse

As they conceive a smell of death

 

In the heart of the planet

Swirling frenzied blood that is gang-raped, comes across straits

The womb of the planet

We don’t need any sonogram

A chunk labeled as an embryo

And a boundary of water

From fish, amphibian, reptile to mammal

That evolutionary seal

That false package of gene

 

Today, a gunfire bursts somewhere on the planet again

I can hear the heartbeat of the planet

 

An Embryo born today remembers the sound.

Tareq Samin is a Bangladeshi Poet, Writer and Editor. He is author of five books, include two poetry collections, two Short Stories collections and a Novel. Some of his poems are translated in English, Spanish, German, Slovak, Portuguese, French and Hungarian Languages. Nature, Love and humanism are central to his work.

 

The sunset in Nagarkot hills

 

I am standing with a friend
yet I am alone
and thinking about you.
The sun is setting in the west
of Nagarkot hills.
Twilight are visible at skyline
clouds are kissing with the forest greens.
birds and insects are making noisy sounds
evening temperature is getting chilled.
fogs and clouds are flying like soft cottons
and I am alone
with many people.
Most tourist couple have already left,
how unlucky they are
those did not kissed each other
in this foggy mountain evening.

 

 

Difference between you and me

 

In your such a surprising depth

I feel

and

also what an astonishing restlessness

prevails in me.

How serene you are, loving and realistic

and more.

How idealistic and mystical I am!

When you spans yourself like the sky

Then I search the depth of the sea,

Revolution rebellion and breaking the boundary

is my morale

Bondage hypnosis and mesmerization are

of your customs.

I want to break and build

I want to die and then be renewed in life

You want certainty

and want to love.

 

Sunana (listen) she said

 

During my eating in a restaurant
I discovered
the most sweet
est
Nepali word.

Suddenly they came,
a young couple.

Just after they sit
the man tried to kiss the women
the women with little laughing
said, ‘Sunana’
the man stop just like an obedient child
just after one sweet word
‘Sunana’.

the word
someone repeat in my ears
Sunana, Sunana
Sunana please.

 

Beauty

 

Beauty
I see in you
is not only
through my eyes
but also through my heart.

This is why
I will be always
the winner.

 

Expected Love

 

Two pairs of pinkish lips would be kissed up

as if like the sucking of liquid chocolate,

The endless time will be spent up

to keep my head on your breast,

In a serene silence I’ll smack of your lock’s smell.

In the recess of my work

I’ll search the depth of your mind,

In the night I’ll whisper the words

Which are very much secret and only for us!

When the sleep’ll haunt me

then you’ll embrace me,

And when after the game of love

You’ll be exhausted then you’ll sink in slumber.

In the morning when we’ll wake up from the primal sleep

Then we’ll draw a sheet to be together.

After that taking a bath both we the two will

take an outing of our respected work,

Only for this expectation I crave you my dear,

For this need Age after Age our middle class life

will be living for ever.

Yannis Ritsos was born in Monemvasia, Greece, in 1909 to a well-heeled family of land owners. He did his early schooling in the region and finished high school in Gythion and in 1925 he moved to Athens where he started working in typing and copying legal documents. . He published his first poetry book Tractor, referring to the working class in 1934 and in 1935 his second book Pyramids; a year later his famous Epitaphios was published in an edition of ten thousand copies although some of them were publicly burned by the military government. In 1948 the poet is arrested and sent to exile on Limnos and then to Makronissos and later one to Saint Eustratios. In 1954 he married Filitsa Georgiadis, a doctor on the island of Samos and their daughter Ery was born in 1955. From this point on, his work began appearing in Greece regularly and his Moonlight Sonata won him the National Prize for Poetry. He died in 1990 at the age of 81.

 

 

FEAR OF LIFE

 

Stony day

stony sun

stony silence

 

the horses died on the mountain

the trees died in the whitewash

you didn’t die

 

sound of their distant hooves

sound of the old panting

in the petrified noon

 

and the fear that perhaps you wouldn’t die

and the fear of water trickling

fear, water, breath – life

 

 

 

MYTH

  

At night we lighted the oil lamps

and took the roads asking the passers-by

 

she wore a dress we said

in the color of dreams didn’t you see her?

She wore two light blue earrings

 

no one had seen her, only in the cabin at the end of the village

the old woman the lumberjack’s mother pointed her finger

and showed us the river behind the trees

 

down to where two light blue stars flickered

 

  

ONE DEAD

  

He said: the light with the enlarged eyes

with the enlarged arm hairs

with the magnified voices of builders on the opposite

construction site with the blinding sea

between their naked ribs is terrible

 

you have to get saddled with a mountain – he said –

that you may pass standing through the sun’s responsibility

 

however down in the basement – he said –

are the large empty barrels like coffins of your ancestors

there is the conciliatory shadow

and the oil stains on the floor

and the roots of the tree that pushes through the wall

its contorted fingers

 

The security of death – he said

 

there you hear the distant words of vineyards and seeds

you taste the silence and the moisture

you get used to being dead

 

and he was truly dead without being accustomed to it

when the long days came with flags

when light knocked on his door

no one opened

 

he was dead without being used to it

 

 

INVITATION

  

Come to the luminous beaches – he murmured to himself –

here where the colors celebrate – look –

here where the royal family never passed

with their closed carriages and official emissaries

 

come – it’s not good if they see you – he said –

I am the deserter of the night

I am the burglar of darkness

I have filled my shirt and my pockets with sun

 

come – it burns my hands and my chest

come let me give it to you

 

and I have something to tell you

that even I cannot hear

 

 

 

ADMISSION

  

Defeated by the light- blue

with his head leaning on the knees of silence

dead tired of life

dead tired of youth

sunken inside his fire

and the seaweed stirring in his armpit –

 

the wave of day didn’t find resistance

not even on a pebble of his thought

 

as he was ready for love

and for death

 

Translated by Manolis Aligizakis

 

Page 1 of 22

লেখা পাঠাবার নিয়ম

মৌলিক লেখা হতে হবে।

নির্ভুল বানান ও ইউনিকোড বাংলায় টাইপকৃত হতে হবে।

অনুবাদ এর ক্ষেত্রে মুল লেখকের নাম ও সংক্ষিপ্ত লেখক পরিচিতি দিতে হবে।

আরো দিতে পারেন

লেখকের ছবি।

সংক্ষিপ্ত লেখক পরিচিতি।

বিষয় বস্তুর সাথে সামঞ্জস্যপূর্ণ অঙ্কন চিত্র বা ছবি। 

সম্পাদক | Editor

তারিক সামিন

Tareq Samin

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লেখা পাঠাবার জন্য

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