Fear not, my love
I will make such arrangements that the army
Will march past us with roses on their shoulders
And salute you
Only you, sweetheart.
Fear not, My love
I will make such planning that
Crossing the wilderness, breaking all the wire-fences
And loaded with all the memories of the warfronts
The armed cars will come to play sonata
Only at your door steps, my sweetheart.
Don’t panic, my love.
I will play such tricks that
The B-52s and the MIG-21s will only groan overhead.
I will make them pour chocolates, toffees and candies
Like paratroopers into your backyard, my sweetheart.
Don’t worry, don’t worry
I will maneuver things in such a way that
A poet will give command
And all the fleets in the Bay of Bengal
And all the voters in the next general election
Will unanimously support the lover, my sweetheart.
All possibilities of war, be sure my love, will evaporate
I will engineer the election and the singer
Will become the leader of the opposition.
A group of red-blue-golden fishes
Will look after the trenches in the borders
Smuggling anything but love will be prohibited. My sweetheart.
Don’t agonize now, my love
I will make it possible where
Devaluation of money will stop
And there will be a boom in the number of soulful poetry.
I will make the dagger fall from the assassin’s hands
Not for the fear of public hatred, but for the dread of public kissing.
Don’t be afraid, my love.
Like the sudden attack of spring on the wintry park
I will have all the revolutionaries’ line into the city
To play accordions, only for you.
Don’t be afraid, my love
I will ensure that you will get
At least four lakh taka as soon as you deposit
One rose or one Chandramallika in the State Bank.
Or four cardigans in exchange of a Jasmine.
Fear not, fear not, fear not, my love
I will ascertain that the navy, the air-force and the military
Will keep you safe day and night
And celebrate you… only you
My love.
[This is my translation of Shahid Kadri's "Tomake Ovibadon, Priyotoma"]
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