For some reason, I feel –

Humans are the parents of fire;

Fire has a classless, selfless character.

Gausur Rahman, a poet and fiction writer from Bangladesh, shares his poem

Gausur Rahman is celebrated as a poet, essayist-researcher, fiction writer, and columnist. His diverse writing career began in the early 1980s. While in the ninth grade, Gausur Rahman’s poem was first published in a Dhaka based newspaper. He was born on October 8, 1965. His ancestral home is in the Chhotogara locality of Netrokona city. He has his own residence and grew up in the city of Mymensingh. This poet with a fresh voice knows the magic of words. He builds a Taj Mahal of language with the stones of words. In his poetry, he applies the calculus of words. His poems are unprecedented in their wonderful blend of object and imagination. Gausur Rahman’s poems focus on the combination of various aspects of women, society, and homeland.

In his poems, Gausur Rahman practices nature, humanity, and humanism. The philosophical concepts born of exuberant creation and contemplation are the capital of Gausur Rahman’s poetry. His poetry creates a clear dividing line between his predecessors and peers due to the novelty of arrangement and dynamism. His poems are unprecedented in their wonderful blend of object and imagination.

As an essayist and researcher, Gausur Rahman is remarkably talented. His prose is surprisingly dynamic. His essays and research have been radiant due to his sharp analytical skills, unique style, and distinct linguistic structure.

Gausur Rahman’s published books include 18 books of poetry, 35 research-based essay books, 3 novels, and 1 collection of short stories. In addition, he has 1 joint remarkable book on history named “ Mymensingh er Ittihas o Oitthyo (The History & Heritage of Mymensingh)” . He has also published 17 edited books with lengthy introductions.

He was a professor and head of the department of Bengali at a honours level college for a long time. Gausur Rahman, holds a B.A. (Hons.) and M.A. in Bengali Language and Literature,he also later obtained an L.L.B. degree. He permanently resides in Mymensingh city, one of the eight divisional headquarters of Bangladesh.

The Parents of Fire

There was no one to keep the twilight in my heart,

And there still isn’t.

Even though the blue sky spreads all around,

My heart has no color.

People find the blue close

Through some love, some conjecture;

The sky burns on a blue stand

And one day becomes the blue itself.

I never found the blue close.

How many memories are there in the depths of darkness,

I lie worn and faded.

I don’t feel the sun is light to me.

I understand half the darkness, and half I don’t.

Your love does not burn

In the fire of my illiterate soul.

Once, the afternoon of spring was full of illusion.

Once, seeing the red-blue winged butterfly,

The heart would fill with elation.

There is fire in the hearts of people,

For some reason, I feel –

Humans are the parents of fire;

Fire has a classless, selfless character.

(Translated by Shuridh Rahman)

__________________ 

Published under an International Cooperation Protocol with Middle East Business | Life Magazine, Abu Dhabi, and The Silk Road Today, Cairo, Egypt

Read: One World One Village – Poetry from Bangladesh

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