Monday, February 1, 2021





A Lonely Mariner


The voyage is long.

My heart trembles with the fear of the unknown.

Like a rock I stand unaided against the wind

and search for the shores.

The face of adverse time

fast outgrows the wilderness of waiting.

I am a lonely mariner drifting in the black palm of thesea.

I look for the signs of brine and foam

on the warm balmy shore.

Transcending the darkness let sunlight burst into fullness.

A compelling desire drives me on.

The weariness of the long odyssey

the body unfed

on top of it the unrelentingly ferocious behaviour

of the sharks.

One has to keep one’s cool, heedless of them

so that death might not visit again stealthily in disguise.

After countless nights of wonder are passed

at last the fragrance of foam

and the restless bubbles of the brine.





The farmer whose perspiration

shed on the earth, makes it a fertile alluvium –

his toil is a sacred poem

the world's greatest verse.

His optic horizon is overspread by the infinitude

of dreams.

These dreamy images are the world's diamond-craft artistry.

His every footprint is a mark

left by a valiant warrior.

The footprint is emblazoned like a map

upon the croplands.

Any usurper usurping the harvest of this land

is doomed for ever.

The toiling farmer's illumined flesh

is a golden chapter in history.

The words of that chapter are the speck and dust

of a golden civilization.

I am the Dravidian son of that very farmer.

Like a true successor I will nourish

this dream-field of crops

the poetry of protest of the millennia.



The Return


When I try to loose the grip,

she holds me so tight in all seasons long,

He will  take back the river, trees and soil

and all insatiate charcoals of heart.


We have to leave alone, left behind everything unmarked.

The Awesome facial expressions---

will not glimpse again, The Divine Comedy -

will cry, left on the shelf –the beautiful festivity.


The effortless all loves of life,

All project-filled dreams of desires,

A futile lover and his saline teardrops--

The cloud messenger will stand in a pause.


The electric power and all transports of the city,

the grass in the park, the men and women in pair,

the wonder of the amusement will be there,

There is no fear of losing anything when you back.





REZAUDDIN STALIN is a well-known poet in Bangladesh and beyond and is born on 22nd November 1962 in Jessore, Bangladesh. He has done his Bachelor's degree in Economics and MA in Political Science from Dhaka University. He is the former Deputy Director of Nazrul Institute where he was employed for 35 years. Stalin’s poems got translated in most languages in the world and he is also a well-known TV anchor and media personality in Bangladesh. Stalin is the founder and chairman of the Performing Art Center and is also the senior editor of Magic Lonthon - a literary organization. Rezauddin Stalin’s total number of books are more than 100 now. He has received many awards and some accolades are: Darjeeling Natto Chokhro Award India (1985), Bangla Academy (2006), Micheal Modhushudhan Dutta Award (2009), Shobho Shachi Award West Bengal (2011), Torongo of California Award USA(2012), Writers club Award California USA (2012), Badam Cultural Award California USA (2012), City Ananda Alo Award(2015), West Bengal, India, Centre Stage Barashat Award (2018), Journalist Association Award UK (2018) and Silk Road Poet Laureate Award Xi’an China (2020).


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