Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Bio: Poet Alam Mahbub took birth in 31 October in 1962 at the deputy bari, Latur Poyar, upozella Gouripur, district of Mymensingh. He earned the higher education Honours and Masters in Bengali language and literature in Mymensingh Ananda Mohan College. Now he is in a profession as a worker in a private business farm at Ishwarganj Filling Station of Mymensingh.
His published books are
1. Jao Preme Jao Biplobe (February 1990)
2. Ghar Dake Rajpath Dake (February 2018)
3. Amar Behala Jane (Ekushey Book Fair 2019)
4. Daki Jadi Shara Dio (February 21, 2022)
5. Ek Je Chilo Sonar Konnya (Novel — February 2017)
Occasionally he writes and translates poetry into English.
Human Mythology by Alam Mahbub
Stories have a beginning — but not an end
Inside the story
There’s the emptiness muddled up remain.
On coloring canvases
The characters are actors
Shaking the stage, stains the mirror of mind
Garreteer sighs
Also even in the shining sun and rain.
Somewhere the shadow falls on the green leaf of life and breaks the circumference.
The story continues like a river
In the story of the story, if the sky is painted
Light also falls on the roots
In the story of human.
Clearance Draft by Alam Mahbub
It’s not as white as it seems —
There’s a story inside.
Not everyone can get down on the street — And not even.
Boldly some goes right down to the highway
Somewhere the fire burns —
And somewhere the rain spears.
White means that’s not white,
Resistance to draft clearances accumulates
The flag of freedom is mixed with blood.
It is not so white easily
The light of a lonely lamp
Burns in protest even in severe storms.
Red eyes never understand the song of free hearts
They only know that robbers naturally
To take away children’s lives
And humanity burns in war also.
I don’t see the white in the white eye today
Today’s at the night poster
The evil hand and a black shadowhides
Inside the white.
Day becomes night
When the black clouds cover the white sky.
Red Flag: It will Rain by Alam Mahbub
Totally a joke,
Stupid crow, in the silent wilderness
Falling flowers cry in the sickness of time.
In the extinguished of wooden fire
The gray afternoon flies
The noise of seasonal birds in the colony
Night and day are statues like poetry.
What a lot of talk!
Words get lost behind the scenes
Words set off firecrackers
The warmth of words is covered in fog
The petals of sad words fly the flag of train
Hopes hang in the cave of darkness.
One day there will be heavy rain
On the window and dirt on the field
Cactus bushes will emerge
If poetry touch closely the desolate forest.
Alam Mahbub
Ms Ishwarganj Filling Station
Ishwarganj, Mymensingha – 2280
Bangladesh.
