Details |
Jinnatul Hossain Poem
Gardener
Jinnatul Hossain Tanim
Do I know the goal of the flower garden?
The thorn forest flowers are torn and the blame is pressed.
Goalini of Kanur Ghat is in the hands of the soil, I dream of her in the middle of the night.
I am a thoughtful boy sitting on the shore, Goalini is more precious to me than gold.
In the palace of the great master, I cut a piece, I am present every morning, I am his gardener.
A beautiful lady used to come to give milk, she could see the gardener's arteries trembling.
Once upon a time there was the humming of an ornamental dawn bird, the ringing of an anklet.
I looked with curved eyes and saw the footsteps of that lady, the love poem of Mali-Goalini started from that day.
Draw silent love with the touch of the brush that is matching the eyes.
Holy love is overshadowed by the evil black shadow, the name of the shadow is Bara Babu.
Just as the hunter's eyes fall on the prey, so does Goalini. The beautiful lady did not get relief from the evil shadows.
Big Babu is thinking deeply, he is a trickster, how can he make a pair of birds a prisoner.
Every morning the gardener sat down thinking that he would give Gowalini a fresh drop of flowers, who knew that thought would be a big mistake.
He said goodbye to me for leaving flowers, today I am helpless, so I took the blame.
Goalini has never been seen again, tell me where to go to find the Lord.
After a long time I am calling you, I am your gardener, if you want to enter the palace, you hear insults.
You have given love to be the queen of Jalanjali, if not, if you remain queen, then you are the product of grandparents.
Sitting in front of the palace house waiting for your arrival, the love of Mali-Goalini blended with the dust.
Copyright © Jinnatul Hossain | Year Posted 2021
|
Details |
Jinnatul Hossain Poem
Assassin
Jinnatul Hossain Tanim
Listen, listen, listen, ungrateful, unfaithful assassin has dreamed of liberation.
In the Second World War, the world leader Hitler whispered the wreckage of the wreckage of the world.
How many crores in plunder, how many miles, All written in Israel,
Listen, listen, listen, listen, heretics, beasts, the cries of the newborn of Palestine can be heard, in the knowledge of death, they are helpless today.
Muslim well illuminated by the arrival of the cataclysm. They will wipe out the killer on the battlefield in the guise of a Syrian newborn hero screaming at the daily bomb.
Copyright © Jinnatul Hossain | Year Posted 2021
|
Details |
Jinnatul Hossain Poem
Unexplained pain
Jinnatul Hossain Tanim
They are covered with gray and black clouds
Gestures give unspoken pain.
The nocturnal bird flies away
The handcuffs of the dead are adorned.
There is no place in that city full of memories
The reality is that you are not here today.
Silent arrogance seeks me out
What does the flying bird understand?
Memories are lost in the directionless current
Someone called from the side.
The soft light of Jochna is helpless today
Time is lost in emptiness.
Silent night floats in the song
In search of the bird in the lost tune.
Feelings of hatred as much as anger
From time to time ruthless promises flow.
Dirty smile is also acting today
This lake is burning with pain.
Under the broken broken branches
The bird will never come back.
Great pain in your address
Burnt ash in coal is blown away.
Gray black clouds tell me
This life is helpless in unspeakable pain.
Copyright © Jinnatul Hossain | Year Posted 2021
|
Details |
Jinnatul Hossain Poem
Goodbye
Jinnatul Hossain Tanim
The dawn will be on that day too, the sun will wake up, the chirping of birds will be heard but there will be humming all around. Someone is crying or someone is standing quietly or someone wants me to extend my hand a little. It will never happen again, Lord, it is widespread among the people all around because I am dead today. Three khan agarbati is burning in a cup of rice, there is no smell of it today, as if everything has faded. The pet dog of the house did not eat today. He could not accept my departure. Used glasses and sticks are lying today. On one side a few people are very busy cutting bamboo today. Who knows if the verses of the Qur'an are floating in a sweet voice today or my life will end tomorrow night. The first bath is in the hands of my mother, I know who will give me the last bath water. Loosen the shroud and look at me. This is the last time you see me. You will see. I will not look at Moray. Is this the line of destiny? The sound of Moray Kalema can be heard on the bed. Who will find me if I go to a secluded house? The bamboo hut banana leaf canopy is my three and a half hands, how can I spend the night alone in this house. After scattering the soil, all of you will leave after praying. After a long time, I am in the middle of nowhere Mother and Father on both sides.
Copyright © Jinnatul Hossain | Year Posted 2021
|
Details |
Jinnatul Hossain Poem
My beloved
Jinnatul hossain
You like braided hair if you weave belly flower light there.
I will be intoxicated by the beauty of your hair, I know your momentary arrival will make me sleepless, so will my love for you stop.
If love ends at your arrival, how can I love you. Beloved, reading your toll is that cheek, it is like a magic trick to surprise.
What is the answer to my instability? What will ever be seen is this inertia broken. I am not a character in a story called Romeo, nor a nameless feeling written in the ink of a prayer, "Will you give me the price of this good house?"
Do you have anything to say conscience? However, are you the reason for the tears in my trembling eyes ????
I'm so surprised to see you, I get a big smile because you don't understand so many stupid emotions.
Whether you like it or not, I would sit alone and draw you in my mind
Copyright © Jinnatul Hossain | Year Posted 2021
|