The Great River "Padma" (My Poem)

The great Padma becomes
The elegant home of myriad affairs,
And the source of restless charms
Making triangle love among man, sky and herself &
Giving Shelter to man on its breast,
Drawing the vast sky overhead
And creating a bridge between down and up.

When the sun appears
Overcoming the riddle of night and kissing the dawn,
Padma looks like a teenage maid
Whose face is purple with shy.

The beautiful village brides wearing the slinky sharees come with pitchers at their waists,
Colorful dreams take place in the bright stars of their eyes.
The sun blazes down gradually on the heart of Padma,
The sparkling of fire on its waves looks like scattered gold
Touching with vigorous youth.
The murmuring sound of the waves tell the anecdotes of two sides
That mingle with laugh and cry.

The little hovels stand far behind the banks,
The thick trees declare their unity standing in the same line.

The alluvial lands are seen here and there,
And the silvery sand glitters altogether.

Steamers, ferries, and launches drive carrying people and goods,
Loud voiced hawkers campaign for their commodities.
The homeless people pray for help uttering holy callings,
The boats full of golden jute, paddy or cattle also move.

Passengers look forward to reaching their desired destination,
Two British tourists are on the boat with their video cameras,
And the eyes of real thinkers seek for hearts.

When rain adds its hue to the spendthrift Padma,
Which makes its copy above in the sky.
The race of water begins,
The sharp sound of water warns the surrounding to be more civilized
For humanitarian joy.

The rainbow in the sky reveals the colors of Padma,
The claps of wind stir the colorful lifted sails of the boats.

Some people take their bath
As if they forget about their all grief,
Fearless naughty boys swim with tumultuous joy
Smearing their bodies with mud.
The cooking smell of Hilsa fishes comes from the cabin
And my mind becomes nimble.

The madness of waves attacks its two sides
As if things become unseen by the dense fog of winter.
Padma acts for the love of gain and pain.
Fisher men sing songs full of joy and sorrow,
The sound of their oars creates natural tune striking water.

When gloomy dusk settles down on Padma
The sun seems to be prepared for sleeping in to its lapse.
Darkness waits for hugging the depth of night
That comes with the lamps of light.
It seems that Padma wears a black night party dress
That is studded with the spangles of silver color.

Oh, the mild southern wind!
Please come to celebrate the ornate Padma in this full moon

A song comes from a nearly boat
Carrying the village bride and groom:
‘Our love will exist
Until the waves on Padma will exist.’

The moon opens its all secrecy of glamour
On the breast of Padma,
The twinkling stars feel shy
Observing the millet of youth there.

Gleaming light comes from the boats of fishermen,
In the silence of night, fishermen trap their nets for Hilsa fishes
That will be sold in the near by market.
Suddenly a sound of dropping vanishes in to the air,
Most probably a village maid has sacrificed her love.
Sometimes the signals from our ferry vibrate in silence,
These are for traffic clearance.

This is the great Padma
Where the nature mixes its color.
This is the many folded Padma
That deserves the right of maintaining its natural beauty
And prays for more eyes of poets.

My mind keeps a question to
The sun of next morning in the eastern sky
Where no hands can reach:
Whether Padma will live by its own way,
Or it will die by the touch of man made dismay?

Please hands don’t interrupt the way of Padma,
Let it exist in to its own path
Wish for the everlasting love of those new couple
Who has started their journey
On the same way up to their death.

And wish for their song be alive:
‘Our love will exist
Until the waves on Padma will exist.’

Note:

*Padma is one of the main rivers in BANGLADESH.

*Sharee is one kind of dresses for Bangladeshi women.

*Hilsa is renowned as the national fish of Bangladesh found in Padma.

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