Dearest, even if you won't love me
Do love my songs
Who cares to know about forest birds
When they cease singing and fly out of sight?
Whoever wants the moon by itself?
Everyone enthuses only about moonlight!
When the concert ends the veena lies forlorn in the dust
No one notices how wicks get burnt
When lamps emit their light!
Cut stems dripping dewdrops
In time blossom as flowers
But when plucking flowers and taking them away
Do you ever think of helping the plant in any way
Or of filling up the flower pot?
All quench their thirsts with river water
But the act parches the river bed so!
Seek, seek the river's water in an ocean of sorrow
But dearest, even if you won't love me
Do love my songs!
Professor Fakrul Alam teaches English at the University of Dhaka.