Taslima Nasrin

(25 August 1962 - / Mymensingh / Bangladesh)

Taslima Nasrin Poems

1. At The Back Of Progress 3/27/2012
2. Happy Marriage 3/27/2012
3. Character 3/27/2012
4. Freedom 3/27/2012
5. Garment Girls 3/27/2012
6. Bhul Preme Kete Gelo Tirish Boshonto 3/27/2012
7. Boro Voye Gopone Gopone Bachi 3/27/2012
8. Eve, Oh Eve 3/27/2012
9. Border 3/27/2012
10. Amar Shomoy 3/27/2012
11. Another Life 3/27/2012
12. A Letter To My Mother 3/27/2012
13. Dikhondito 3/27/2012
14. A Query 3/27/2012
15. Byastota 3/27/2012
16. Aggression 3/27/2012
17. Can'T I Have A Homeland To Call My Own? 3/27/2012
18. India 3/27/2012
19. Dukhoboti Ma 3/27/2012
20. Granary 3/27/2012
21. For Some Years Now 3/27/2012
22. Hand 3/27/2012
23. Ccu To Ccu (Coronary Care Unit To Calcutta) 3/27/2012
24. Girl From Switzerland 3/27/2012
25. Acquaintance 3/27/2012
26. Things Cheaply Had 3/27/2012
27. Masturbation 3/27/2012
28. Prem Korecho Koro 3/27/2012
29. The Female 3/27/2012
30. You Go Girl ! 3/27/2012
31. Prottyasha 3/27/2012
32. Oviman 3/27/2012
33. The Woman Breaking Bricks 3/27/2012
34. Women And Poems 3/27/2012
35. No Man's Land 3/27/2012
36. Mosque, Temple 3/27/2012
37. Jodi Manush Na Hoy Pari, Pakhi Hoyeo Firbo Ekdin 3/27/2012
38. The Room In Which I Am Forced . . . 3/27/2012
39. Time 3/27/2012
40. Noorjahan 3/27/2012
Best Poem of Taslima Nasrin

At The Back Of Progress

The fellow who sits in the air-conditioned office
is the one who in his youth raped
a dozen or so young girls,
and, at cocktail parties, is secretly stricken with lust,
fastening his eyes on lovelies' bellybuttons.

In five-star hotels,
he tries out his different sexual tastes
with a variety of women,
then returns home and beats his wife
because of an over-ironed handkerchief or shirt collar.

In his office Mr. Big puffs on a cigarette,
shuffles through files,
rings ...

Read the full of At The Back Of Progress

The Unrung Ring

So many things ring,
the cells of the body,
the ankle bells as they dance,
the silver wrist bangles.
As the monsoon rains fall on the window
the glass panes musically ring.
As clouds clash with clouds
lightning rings out.
Dreams ring, keeping time to their beats,

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