Shahaduzzaman's 'Kamalalebo'

Some grief is birds. Perhaps every Bengali teenager's first God visit is the poem of Jibananad.
Twenty-two or more years ago, in a cloudy cloud, quietly, I saw the first eye in a book printed on the paper printed on the weak paper of the newsprint, suddenly, there is a slice like a lazy grey soaked in a sunny head in the morning on the rice. The life-span that touched me like an eagentant monster, has not touched me even today, I want to die, never cut it.

On the other side of the sky, the sky floats in the hands of whose heart hangs across the horizons of the heart, one wonders, this dirty world, which can declare the land of Maya as a country, no one is unthinkable than that, I know, there is no possibility of being more earthly than any other person. I know, too.
Shahaduzzaman's writing 'A Kamalelobu' is like a lone sitar player. Like it, read the book. He tried to spread the life of the book on an unfinished posture, yet it was stuck in the chest in the chest, and it was stuck in the neck. We see some movies, we read some books, where the sadness of the hero winks our mind, we get excited, but in the same way, we know that it is temporal, soon it will be met with a charming heroine, or No fat salary The chances of this happy yoke are resilient to us. But, there is no way in an orange. We read the story of a lost life story, which does not eventually become a hero of the movie. Every page is upside down, knowing that there is no salvation from this problem, and it will never match.
In many ways, Jibanandak is known here. His first poem, life of Barisal, neglect of contemporary industrial people .... I am grateful to his few friends at times. But above all, it is very difficult for the man. The poems have become like the ghosts of ghosts on top of them. He spent a full life with that pain on his head. In the next one century, the countenance of countless people, in whose hands the mastery was in the hands, the man did not even get the feeling of a sweetheart. Some of the poems are some of the people who, but he could not have become a fable.
The text of many poems is known through the book. All my songs still keep looking at you. When they look at them beside poetry, the rise of the poet increases further. Try to see the life of the poet like a movie in a mix of scenes of scenes. Shahaduzzaman succeeded in it. More informationable biographies might be found, but the book is the author's intimacy.
When we read an orange book, we see an infinitely talented but in the near future a failed and frustrated man. Who could not match the complexity of the name of happiness. Whose pen is falling like a shower from the pen, but what a sterile life that has gone a long way, he went on living with a blatant hymn.
Yet the paradox of the world, this is the life of my dear life, but I have always written my favorite poem in your lifetime, the unreadable light source.
"Now resin-gandha-first-new- / a star is only in the afternoon sky; It is good to stay here after many work; / Neoprene swollen to bees; / there is no, there is nothing, but there are no faces beside / there.

(Greetings: Meghdal, Shahaduzzaman and Jibanananda)