Geet Songeet

The Sky of Paris is composed of one hundred and seventy-five poems, all written as sonnets.Since childhood, craddled by this country's history and heritage, I've dreamed of gazing upon artworks created for kings and queens. Land of monarchs, history, art, literature, and love... From a young age, I yearned to uncover France's treasures. To realize this dream, I embarked on a long journey, overcoming the impossible.Arriving despite countless obstacles, I found life here extremely difficult, cruel even. As a refugee, I faced inhumane conditions, no right to work, and constant threat of arrest and deportation. Children, families, were arrested at school and sent back.Faced with these hardships, I was detained three times for deportation. To survive, I sold goods near metro stations, until police banned me. When they seized my posters, insulted me, and forced me to lick spit, I did - a price for love.Yet my love for the people of this country has never diminished. With that love in my heart, I continue to live here, to endure, and to survive dwelling beneath the sky of Paris.

The book, My Melody 210 Lyrics, by Nur ALOM, a Bangladeshi who migrated to France as a young man, reflects on his life and experiences. In it, he muses over such things as drowsiness, smiles, trees, rain, and birds. As a newcomer to France, he writes about such things as the amazing city of Paris, its metro, a visit to Chamonix; seeing snow for the first time, paragliding, visiting Les Treilles and Les Arcs, and the Rhone fleuve. As a Bangladeshi, he reminisces about his Kirtinasha home, the custom of calling special occasions days of color, Bangladeshi independence, the Kashful, rice paddies, coloring the skin yellow and other colors on special occasions, and fireflies. As a Muslim, he writes about Eid, madrasahs, worshippers, God, prayers, the Qur'an, the creator, the creation, resurrection, the forbidden, reconciliation, and the morning of Ramadan. He explores such human evocations as love, shame, greed, cruelty, truth, tears, selfishness, begging and pain. And he writes about magic, song, touch, being inside or outside, the messages of eyes, friendship, and the bound mind. And finally, he writes about the magic of poetry itself. It is a compilation of Nur ALOM's poetry written over many years, reflecting a life of strong emotions and deep feelings.

Au terme de près de deux cents ans de domination britannique à partir de 1757, l'Inde a retrouvé son indépendance en 1947. En 1971, le Bangladesh a gagné son indépendance du Pakistan. Les combattants de la liberté du Bangladesh ont subi des injustices et ont été torturés. Le peuple est devenu indépendant, mais ne l'est pas vraiment. Il a vécu une vie soumise à des gangsters. Comme la voie royale teintée de sang, les champs étaient teintés de sang dans les villages. Des cadavres frais et pourris flottaient dans la rivière mêlée de sang. Les gens ne sortaient pas de chez eux à cause de la peur et de la puanteur. Les mères et les soeurs pleuraient et fermaient leurs portes. Elles jeûnaient, priaient pour le pays et son peuple, pour la liberté, pour la libération et pour la paix. Le souvenir de ces vêtements tachés de sang me rappelle aujourd'hui cette histoire. Les taches et l'odeur du sang feront toujours partie de ce Cottage Rouge. Le Cottage Rouge est imprégné de ce sang. Il en raconte l'histoire. Ces poèmes résonnent d'une manière extraordinairement actuelle dans les événements du Bangladesh d'aujourd'hui. Le texte d'origine en bengali de Cottage Rouge était entièrement composé de sonnets et incluait tous les types de poèmes appartenant à la poésie du sonnet. Dans les traductions anglaise et française, la forme originale ne pouvait être maintenue, mais la lettre et l'esprit des poèmes ont été rigoureusement respectés.

Within this poetry collection appears a chapter devoted to Mir Jafor. It was through the treachery of such Mir Jafors that the last sun of independent Bengal was forced to set. Among the descendants of that legacy of betrayal are Mir Khair and Mir Motahar of Atong, who, like blood-sucking leeches, continue to drain the lifeblood of the soil of Bengal and its people. These heirs of the traitor Mir Jafor persist in inflicting oppression and injustice upon the people of this land. This poetry collection, Sorolipi, is composed of one hundred and two poems and lyrical verses, woven together as a melodic reflection on faith, love, struggle, and the human condition.