It's so hard to bear with the pain Original by Rabindranath Tagore
It's so hard to bear with the pain
Of waiting for a long long time
I keep waiting for you baby
All day and all night long daily
But you haven't come yet, my friend
My days pass by and night's pass by
Thus everything passes by
But you haven't come yet, my friend
It's so hard to bear with the pain
Of waiting for a long long time
I keep waiting for you baby
All day and all night long daily
But you haven't come yet, my friend
Now my body is weak
All my tears have dried out
And my eyes have lost sleep
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poem by Asif Andalib
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The Cow (Chapter 2, Verses 265-266, Holy Koran)
I ask for refuge to Allah from Satan the exiled evildoer.
In the name of Allah the Kind and the Merciful Giver.
Those who spend their property
To seek pleasure of Allah the Giver and Great
And to uphold their mindset
Their reward is like a hilltop garden
Upon which if heavy rain falls
Its fruits become twofold then
But if heavy rain does not fall
Drizzling is enough for the garden too
Allah sees whatever you do.
Is there one of you who wants
A garden of palms and vines
With streams flowing beneath it
All kinds of fruits will be there
Then you will become gray-haired
And you will have weak offspring
When a fiery whirlwind will smite that garden
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poem by Asif Andalib
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On this day of Spring Original by Rabindranath Tagore
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
On this day of Spring
On this day of Spring
My friend's heart is as soft
As a little flower
Whose negligence makes it
So terribly suffer
Why do you come to her
And try to make her laugh
The one who used to come
Now doesn't care enough
So many flowers bloom
On this day of Spring
So many flutes are played
So many birds sing
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poem by Asif Andalib
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On the other shore of my song Original by Rabindranath Tagore
You are standing on the other shore of my song
The waves of my music touch your fair and bare feet
But I can not touch you and I can guess what’s wrong!
The wind is pretty strong somehow
Don’t be late; please sail your boat now
Anchor your boat in my heart right where you belong.
You are standing on the other shore of my song
The waves of my music touch your fair and bare feet
But I can not touch you and I can guess what’s wrong!
The game of song that I play with you
It makes me sad and it’s nothing new!
When will you take my flute of love
And play it to charm me enough
In the darkness full of happiness all night long?
You are standing on the other shore of my song
The waves of my music touch your fair and bare feet
But I can not touch you and I can guess what’s wrong!
poem by Asif Andalib
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The venom of loneliness
Loneliness is biting me like a cobra
Its venom is killing me bit by bit
Now I have become something like an animal
I don't bathe, wash my face and brush my teeth
Regularly
It seems without you I will die like a street dog
I don't comb my hair, Put on clean clothes,
Go out for a walk and do any job
Regularly
I can't concentrate on anything
I no more like to write, dance and sing
I spend sleepless nights like the rats and bats
I fall asleep in the morning like night guards
I startle hearing ring of my phone thinking it's from you
I keep on wondering why it's happening to me more and more
I am like a flower in a garden and you are like a butterfly
I wait for you all day long day after day
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poem by Asif Andalib
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Politics In Bangladesh II
Power tends to corrupt
And absolute power corrupts absolutely
This is so true in the political arena of Bangladesh
The ruling party has made the justice department
And anti-corruption commission a hoax
They forgive the criminals on political grounds
And withdraw all corruption charges against themselves
By hook or by crook
Politicization is taking place in every sphere of the country
Votes are being bought and sold like commodities
In competitive markets
The criminals are becoming leaders
Because of their black market money and liaisons
The mouth of the civil society are being gagged
By large amount of hush money
People who are trying to eliminate poverty from the country
Are being called bloodsuckers by the so-called patriots
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Trade-cycle
In a competitive market
National economy rolls like a wheel
In economics it is called trade-cycle
From economic recovery to boom
To slump to recovery to boom
Is a common phenomenon
In a competitive market
The boom does not last long
Because
The demand for products and services
Is limited in all countries
That’s why
The governments have a vital role to play
Especially during boom
The governments should monitor
And control industrial development
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poem by Asif Andalib
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Most Of The Beautiful Girls Of Bangladesh
In Bangladesh most of the beautiful girls
Are raped by their fathers
The victims shed tears
In the darkness of night
Most of times they cannot protest
Their mouths are gagged
By their horrid shamefulness and unknown fears
These fathers are lascivious like animals and insects
They cannot control wild desires
Their daughters are like flowers
Beautiful, sweet-smelling, innocent and helpless
Many of them later become loose characters
Some of them become sex-workers
And others face unhappy married life ultimately
These girls think it would be better
If they were dead long before they were raped
Or their fathers buried them alive like the dark ages
When they were newborn
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God and Prophet Muhammad
Alas! There’s no one better than God
And He is cruel somewhat
God feels lonely
Although He has so many friends
Because
God is one of a kind
Even angels are not like God
Angels have wings
But God’s body has no wing
And they are like a dot to God
God is unable to create His own spouse!
That’s why it’s so hard to turn His mood on
And make Him satisfied.
Although God’s got all the powers
That exist in reality
He hasn’t got all the powers
That can be found in imagination.
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O My Bangladesh Of Gold - Original By Rabindranath Tagore
O my mom!
O my Bangladesh!
O my Bangladesh of Gold!
I love you mom I love you.
O my mom! Your sky and your air
Attract me like a flute-player!
O my mom!
O my Bangladesh!
O my Bangladesh of Gold!
I love you mom I love you.
O my mom!
In spring in mango gardens
I have smelt holy fragrance!
O my mom!
O my Bangladesh!
O my Bangladesh of Gold!
I love you mom I love you.
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poem by Asif Andalib
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