Akash Saha
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“সময় শোকের চেয়ে বলশালী। শোক তীরভূমি, সময় জাহ্নবী। সময় শোকের ওপর পলি ফেলে আর পলি ফেলে। তারপর একদিন প্রকৃতির অমোঘনিয়ম অনুযায়ী, সময়ের পলিতে চাপা পড়া শোকের ওপর ছোট ছোট অঙ্কুরের আঙুল বেরোয়।
অঙ্কুর। আশার-দুঃখের-চিন্তার-বিদ্বেষের।
আঙুলগুলো ওপরে ওঠে, আকাশ খামচায়।
সময় সব পারে।”
― Mother of 1084
অঙ্কুর। আশার-দুঃখের-চিন্তার-বিদ্বেষের।
আঙুলগুলো ওপরে ওঠে, আকাশ খামচায়।
সময় সব পারে।”
― Mother of 1084
“কিন্তু বাঙালি আর কিছু পারুক না পারুক,বাজে তর্কে খুব মজবুত ।”
― দেশে বিদেশে
― দেশে বিদেশে
“We sit in the mud, my friend, and reach for the stars.”
― Fathers and Sons
― Fathers and Sons
“আসছে ফাল্গুনে আমরা কিন্তু দ্বিগুণ হবো।”
― আরেক ফাল্গুন
― আরেক ফাল্গুন
“You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.
You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening... ”
―
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.
You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening... ”
―
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