1. info@www.kalomerkarukaj.com : PENCRAFT : PENCRAFT PENCRAFT
  2. sadikurrahmanrumen55@gmail.com : Sadiqur Rahman Rumen : Sadiqur Rahman Rumen
āĻŽāĻ™ā§āĻ—āϞāĻŦāĻžāϰ, ā§§ā§­ āϜ⧁āύ ⧍ā§Ļ⧍ā§Ģ, ā§§ā§§:⧍⧧ āĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŦāĻžāĻšā§āύ

🇧🇩āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇ āĻ•āϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ•āϜāύ āϰ⧋āĻŽāĻžāύāĻŋāϝāĻŧāĻžāύ āĻ•āĻŦāĻŋāϰ āĻ•āĻžāĻŦā§āϝāĻŋāĻ• āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ🇧🇩

Md. Sadiqur Rahman Rumen
  • āĻĒā§āϰāĻ•āĻžāĻļāĻŋāϤ: āϏ⧋āĻŽāĻŦāĻžāϰ, ⧍ā§Ģ āĻŽāĻžāĻ°ā§āϚ, ⧍ā§Ļ⧍ā§Ē
  • ā§§ā§§ā§§ā§Ŧ āĻŦāĻžāϰ āĻĒ⧜āĻž āĻšā§Ÿā§‡āϛ⧇

Poetic tributes of some Romanian poets on the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh.

āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύ āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ

āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āϏāĻ‚āĻ—ā§āϰāĻžāĻŽā§‡,

āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ āĻŽāĻ°ā§āϝāĻžāĻĻāĻžāϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇ āĻŽāĻžāĻĨāĻž āωāρāϚ⧁ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āĻĻāĻžāρāĻĄāĻŧāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇āϛ⧇āĨ¤

ā§­ā§§ āϏāĻžāϞ⧇ āĻļ⧇āĻ– āĻŽā§āϜāĻŋāĻŦ⧁āϰ āϰāĻšāĻŽāĻžāύ⧇āϰ āĻšā§‹āϖ⧇āϰ āφāĻĄāĻŧāĻžāϞ⧇ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāĻĻ āĻĒāĻžāύ

āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻĻ⧇āĻļ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧇ āĻ—āĻžāϝāĻŧ āϤāĻžāϰ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž!

āϜāĻžāϤ⧀āϝāĻŧ āĻ•āĻŦāĻŋ āĻ•āĻžāĻœā§€ āύāϜāϰ⧁āϞ āχāϏāϞāĻžāĻŽ,

āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ āφāϞ⧋āϰ āĻŦāĻžāϤāĻŋāϘāϰ, āφāĻ§ā§āϝāĻžāĻ¤ā§āĻŽāĻŋāĻ• āĻŦā§€āϰāĨ¤

āĻ—āĻ°ā§āĻŦ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āωāĻ¤ā§āϏāĻ°ā§āĻ— āĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āĻ—āĻžāύ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇,

āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϜāύāĻ—āĻŖāϕ⧇ āĻŦāĻŋāϜāϝāĻŧ āĻ“ āĻ—ā§ŒāϰāĻŦ⧇āϰ āĻĻāĻŋāϕ⧇ āύāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āϗ⧇āϛ⧇āύ!

āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻ›āĻžāĻŦā§āĻŦāĻŋāĻļ āĻŽāĻžāĻ°ā§āϚ āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āϏāĻŽā§āĻŽāĻžāύ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇ āωāĻĻāϝāĻžāĻĒāύ āĻ•āϰāĻŋ

āϝ⧇ āĻĻāĻŋāύāϟāĻŋāϰ āϏ⧂āϚāύāĻž āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ, āϏ⧇āχ āĻĻāĻŋāύāϟāĻŋ āĻĢ⧁āϞ⧇āϰ āĻŽāϤ⧋ āĻĒāĻŦāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϰ

āĻ—āĻžāύ, āĻĒāϰāĻŋāĻŦ⧇āĻļāύāĻž, āĻ—āĻ°ā§āĻŦāĻŋāϤ āĻŦāĻ•ā§āϤ⧃āϤāĻž,

āχāϤāĻŋāĻšāĻžāϏ āϞāĻŋāϖ⧇āϛ⧇ āĻāĻŽāύ āϘāϟāύāĻžāϕ⧇ āφāĻ¨ā§āĻĄāĻžāϰāϞāĻžāχāύ āĻ•āϰ⧁āύāĨ¤

āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻžāϰ āĻĒāĻĻāĻ•, āϏāĻŽā§āĻŽāĻžāύ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤ⧀āĻ•,

āĻĒ⧁āϰāĻ¸ā§āĻ•ā§ƒāϤ āϏāĻžāĻšāϏ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϏāĻŽā§āĻŽāĻžāύ, āĻ–āĻŦāϰ āĻ›āĻžāĻĄāĻŧāĻž.

āĻ•āĻ āĻŋāύ āϏāĻ‚āĻ—ā§āϰāĻžāĻŽ, āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ,

āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻĒāϰāĻŋāϚāϝāĻŧ āĻ–ā§‹āĻĻāĻžāχ āĻ•āϰ⧇āϛ⧇, āĻŽāĻšāĻžāĻļāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϤ⧇!

āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

āĻ•āĻŦāĻŋ: āĻ•ā§āϞāĻĄāĻŋāϝāĻŧāĻž āĻŦāĻžāϞ⧁āϟāĻž (Claudia Baluta)

āϞ⧇āĻ–āĻ• āĻ•āĻ°ā§āϤ⧃āĻ• āϏāĻ‚āϰāĻ•ā§āώāĻŋāϤ āĻ…āϧāĻŋāĻ•āĻžāϰ!

 

(Romanian Version)

Independență Bangladesh.

 

Claudia Baluta

In marea luptă pentru libertate,

Bangladesh s-a ridicat cu demnitate.

Sub ochii lui Sheikh Mujibur Rahman ÃŽn 71 a gost

Patria ÃŽČ™i cÃĸntă independența cu rost!

Kazi Nazrul Islam, poet național,

A fost farul de lumină, erou spiritual.

Cu versuri pline de mÃĸndrie și dăruire,

A condus poporul spre biruință și năzuire!

În fiecare 26 martie, sărbătorim cu onoare

Ziua ce-a marcat ÃŽnceputul, ziua sfintă ca o floare 

CÃĸntece, spectacole, discursuri de mÃĸndrie,

Subliniază faptele ce-au scris istorie.

Medalia Independenței, simbol de cinste,

Răsplătește curajul și onoarea, fără veste.

Lupta grea, războiul de eliberare,

Au sculptat identitatea, cu putere mare!

Poet: Claudia Băluță

drepturi rezervate de autor.

Dedicație: Cu ocazia Marii Zile a Independenței din Bangladesh, ca un umil tribut adus tuturor martirilor marelui război de eliberare al acelei țări.

 

 

Camelia Vlăsceanu

DESPAIR

My love, the war has begun

And in my heart, I have a great loss.

I long for the good old days

And after happiness in your arms.

My love, there is a lot of hate in the world

Fire consumes innocent souls

Where to run, how to find a path

To come to you and forget everything?

I think it will take quite some time

And we will be long gone from the world.

We will always look for each other

In our nameless universe.

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

 

Š Camelia Vlăsceanu.

DON’T CRY, CHILDREN!

Don’t cry, child, fathers have a role today.

Act in the drama of a horror film.

Don’t cry baby Daddy’s a hero

He’s fighting death, he won’t come home!

Don’t cry, child, for your older brothers!

It plays out the same war

Learn to be strong-chested heroes,

They protect you, child, they are children too!

You won’t have to act in the movie either!

You’re melting, baby, like a snowball.

Father and brothers will defend you,

Overcoming the enemies of the slaughter world.

You write a book, with your tears,

Tell those who will follow you

Your father, the hero, played a role

In a real movie, when he defends you!

Don’t cry, child, the cold that freezes you!

The ground is soaked in blood,

The fire also consumes your little house…

Don’t cry baby, you’re safe!

 

(Dedicated to children from Ukraine, war refugees in Romania)

03.03.2022.

āĻšāϤāĻžāĻļāĻž

āφāĻŽāĻžāϰ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽ, āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ āĻļ⧁āϰ⧁ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇āϛ⧇

āφāϰ āĻŽāύ⧇ āĻŽāύ⧇ āφāĻŽāĻžāϰ āĻŦāĻĄāĻŧ āĻ•ā§āώāϤāĻŋāĨ¤

āφāĻŽāĻŋ āĻ­āĻžāϞ āĻĒ⧁āϰāĻžāύ⧋ āĻĻāĻŋāύ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āφāĻ•āĻžāĻ™ā§āĻ–āĻž

āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āφāĻĒāύāĻžāϰ āĻŦāĻžāĻšā§āϤ⧇ āϏ⧁āϖ⧇āϰ āĻĒāϰ⧇āĨ¤

āφāĻŽāĻžāϰ āĻ­āĻžāϞāĻŦāĻžāϏāĻž, āĻĒ⧃āĻĨāĻŋāĻŦā§€āϤ⧇ āĻ…āύ⧇āĻ• āϘ⧃āĻŖāĻž āφāϛ⧇

āφāϗ⧁āύ āύāĻŋāϰ⧀āĻš āφāĻ¤ā§āĻŽāĻžāϕ⧇ āĻ—ā§āϰāĻžāϏ āĻ•āϰ⧇

āϕ⧋āĻĨāĻžāϝāĻŧ āϛ⧁āϟāϤ⧇ āĻšāĻŦ⧇, āĻ•āĻŋāĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇ āĻĒāĻĨ āϖ⧁āρāĻœā§‡ āĻŦ⧇āϰ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āĻšāĻŦ⧇

āϤ⧋āĻŽāĻžāϰ āĻ•āĻžāϛ⧇ āĻāϏ⧇ āϏāĻŦ āϭ⧁āϞ⧇ āϝ⧇āϤ⧇?

āφāĻŽāĻŋ āĻŽāύ⧇ āĻ•āϰāĻŋ āĻāϟāĻŋ āĻŦ⧇āĻļ āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁ āϏāĻŽāϝāĻŧ āϞāĻžāĻ—āĻŦ⧇

āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āĻĒ⧃āĻĨāĻŋāĻŦā§€ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āĻ…āύ⧇āĻ• āĻĻā§‚āϰ⧇ āϚāϞ⧇ āϝāĻžāĻŦāĨ¤

āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āϏāĻŦāϏāĻŽāϝāĻŧ āĻāϕ⧇ āĻ…āĻĒāϰ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ¨ā§āϧāĻžāύ āĻ•āϰāĻŦ

āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āύāĻžāĻŽāĻšā§€āύ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦ⧇āĨ¤

āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—:āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

 

āĻ•āĻžāρāĻĻāĻŦ⧇ āύāĻž, āĻŦāĻžāĻšā§āϚāĻžāϰāĻž!

āϕ⧇āρāĻĻā§‹ āύāĻž āĻļāĻŋāĻļ⧁, āĻŦāĻžāĻŦāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āφāϜ āĻ­ā§‚āĻŽāĻŋāĻ•āĻž āφāϛ⧇āĨ¤

āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻšāϰāϰ āĻĢāĻŋāĻ˛ā§āĻŽā§‡āϰ āύāĻžāϟāϕ⧇ āĻ…āĻ­āĻŋāύāϝāĻŧāĨ¤

āϕ⧇āρāĻĻā§‹ āύāĻž āĻŦāĻžāĻŦ⧁ āĻŦāĻžāĻŦāĻž āĻšāĻŋāϰ⧋

āϏ⧇ āĻŽā§ƒāĻ¤ā§āϝ⧁āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇ āϞāĻĄāĻŧāϛ⧇, āĻŦāĻžāĻĄāĻŧāĻŋ āĻĢāĻŋāϰāĻŦ⧇ āύāĻž!

āĻŦāĻžāĻšā§āϚāĻž, āϤ⧋āĻŽāĻžāϰ āĻŦāĻĄāĻŧ āĻ­āĻžāχāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āϕ⧇āρāĻĻā§‹ āύāĻž!

āĻāϟāĻŋ āĻāĻ•āχ āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ āϖ⧇āϞāĻž

āĻļāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāĻļāĻžāϞ⧀ āĻŦ⧁āϕ⧇āϰ āĻŦā§€āϰ āĻšāϤ⧇ āĻļāĻŋāϖ⧁āύ,

āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āϤ⧋āĻŽāĻžāϕ⧇ āϰāĻ•ā§āώāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇, āĻļāĻŋāĻļ⧁, āϤāĻžāϰāĻžāĻ“ āĻļāĻŋāĻļ⧁!

āϏāĻŋāύ⧇āĻŽāĻžāϝāĻŧ āĻ…āĻ­āĻŋāύāϝāĻŧ āĻ“ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āĻšāĻŦ⧇ āύāĻž!

āϤ⧁āĻŽāĻŋ āĻ—āϞ⧇ āϝāĻžāĻšā§āĻ›, āĻŦāĻžāĻšā§āϚāĻž, āĻ¸ā§āύ⧋āĻŦāϞ⧇āϰ āĻŽāϤ⧋āĨ¤

āĻĒāĻŋāϤāĻž āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻ­āĻžāχāϰāĻž āφāĻĒāύāĻžāϕ⧇ āϰāĻ•ā§āώāĻž āĻ•āϰāĻŦ⧇,

āĻŦāĻ§ā§āϝāĻ­ā§‚āĻŽāĻŋāϰ āĻļāĻ¤ā§āϰ⧁āĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒāϰāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤ āĻ•āϰāĻžāĨ¤

āϤ⧋āĻŽāĻžāϰ āĻšā§‹āϖ⧇āϰ āϜāϞ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āϤ⧁āĻŽāĻŋ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻž āĻŦāχ āϞ⧇āĻ–ā§‹,

āϝāĻžāϰāĻž āφāĻĒāύāĻžāϕ⧇ āĻ…āύ⧁āϏāϰāĻŖ āĻ•āϰāĻŦ⧇ āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻŦāϞ⧁āύ

āϤ⧋āĻŽāĻžāϰ āĻŦāĻžāĻŦāĻž āύāĻžāϝāĻŧāϕ⧇āϰ āĻ­ā§‚āĻŽāĻŋāĻ•āĻžāϝāĻŧ āĻ…āĻ­āĻŋāύāϝāĻŧ āĻ•āϰ⧇āϛ⧇

āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻŦāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤāĻŦ āϚāϞāĻšā§āϚāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϰ⧇, āϝāĻ–āύ āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āφāĻĒāύāĻžāϕ⧇ āϰāĻ•ā§āώāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āύ!

āϕ⧇āρāĻĻā§‹ āύāĻž, āĻļāĻŋāĻļ⧁, āĻ āĻžāĻ¨ā§āĻĄāĻž āϝ⧇ āϤ⧋āĻŽāĻžāϕ⧇ āĻšāĻŋāĻŽāĻžāϝāĻŧāĻŋāϤ āĻ•āϰ⧇!

āĻŽāĻžāϟāĻŋ āĻ­āĻŋāĻœā§‡ āϗ⧇āϛ⧇ āϰāĻ•ā§āϤ⧇,

āφāϗ⧁āύ āφāĻĒāύāĻžāϰ āϛ⧋āĻŸā§āϟ āϘāϰāϟāĻŋāϕ⧇āĻ“ āĻ—ā§āϰāĻžāϏ āĻ•āϰ⧇…

āϕ⧇āρāĻĻā§‹ āύāĻž āϏ⧋āύāĻž, āϤ⧁āĻŽāĻŋ āύāĻŋāϰāĻžāĻĒāĻĻ!

(āχāωāĻ•ā§āϰ⧇āύ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āφāϏāĻž āĻļāĻŋāĻļ⧁āĻĻ⧇āϰ, āϰ⧋āĻŽāĻžāύāĻŋāϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ āĻļāϰāĻŖāĻžāĻ°ā§āĻĨā§€āĻĻ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āωāĻ¤ā§āϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—ā§€āĻ•ā§ƒāϤ)

Š Camelia Vlăsceanu.

03.03.2022

āĻŽāĻŋāĻšāĻžāχ āĻŽā§āύāϤ⧇āύ⧁

 

*āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦ⧇ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋ āĻ“ āϏāĻŽā§āĻŽāĻžāύ āϚāĻžāχ*

 

āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āϝ⧇ āĻ­āĻžāώāĻžā§Ÿ āĻ•āĻĨāĻž āĻŦāϞāĻŋ āϤāĻžāϰ āĻļāĻŋāĻ•ā§œ āĻ°ā§Ÿā§‡āϛ⧇,

 

āφāϟāϕ⧇ āφāϛ⧇ āĻŽāĻžāϟāĻŋāϤ⧇, āĻĒāĻŋāϤ⧃āĻ­ā§‚āĻŽāĻŋāϤ⧇ āϏāĻŽā§Ÿā§‡āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇, āϤāĻžāϰ āϚāĻžāϰāĻĒāĻžāĻļ⧇ āĻŦā§āĻ°ā§āϝāĻžāĻŽā§āĻŦāϞ āĻŦā§‡ā§œā§‡āϛ⧇ āĻ•āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧁ āφāĻŽāĻŋ āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒāϰāĻŋāĻˇā§āĻ•āĻžāϰ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋ, āϝāĻžāϤ⧇ āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻāϟāĻŋāϕ⧇ āĻ…āĻĒāĻŦāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϰ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āύ

 

āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻ…āύ⧇āĻ• āϰāĻ•ā§āϤ āĻāϰāĻŋā§Ÿā§‡āĻ›āĻŋ, āĻ–āĻžāϞāĻŋ āĻŦ⧁āϕ⧇ āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇ āĻŦ⧇āϰāĻŋā§Ÿā§‡ āĻĒ⧜āϞāĻžāĻŽ, āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻšāĻžāϤ⧇ āĻļ⧁āϧ⧁ āĻĒāϤāĻžāĻ•āĻž āύāĻŋā§Ÿā§‡, āĻāĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇āχ āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋ, āϏ⧇āχ āϜāĻžāĻŽāĻž āĻĻāĻŋā§Ÿā§‡, āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻ•āϤ āϞ⧋āĻ­ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞāĨ¤

 

āĻŦāĻ›āϰ⧇āϰ āĻĒāϰ āĻŦāĻ›āϰ āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āύāĻŋāĻĒā§€ā§œāύ āĻ•āϰ⧇āϛ⧇, āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻŦāĻ¨ā§āĻĻā§€ āĻŦ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āϜāĻžāϤāĻŋ āĻšāĻŋāϏāĻžāĻŦ⧇, āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻŦāĻ¨ā§āĻĻāϰ āĻšāĻŋāϏāĻžāĻŦ⧇, āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻ­āĻžāώāĻž āĻāϤ āĻļ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ, āĻ•āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧁ āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻāĻ–āύāĻ“ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϧāĻ°ā§āĻŽāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāϰāĻŋāϤ āĻ•āϰ⧇āύāĻŋ, āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻļ⧁āϧ⧁ āĻšā§‡āĻˇā§āϟāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āϛ⧇ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āύāĻŋāĻ°ā§āĻŦāĻžāϏāύ⧇ āϧ⧀āϰ, āϤāĻžāϰ āĻŽā§āϖ⧇ āϤāĻžāϰ āĻŽā§āĻˇā§āϟāĻŋ āϰāĻžāĻ–āĻž.

 

āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āϚāĻŋāϰāĻ•āĻžāϞ āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻŦ, āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻāχ āĻĻ⧇āĻļāϕ⧇ āϰāĻ•ā§āώāĻž āĻ•āϰāĻŦ,

 

āĻĒ⧁āϰ⧋ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦāϕ⧇ āϜāĻžāύāϤ⧇ āĻĻāĻŋāύ āϝ⧇ āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āĻ•āĻ–āύāχ āĻšāĻžāϞ āĻ›āĻžā§œāĻŋ āύāĻžāĨ¤

 

āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āĻĒāĻĻāĻ¤ā§āϝāĻžāĻ— āĻ•āϰāĻŋ āύāĻž… āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āϚ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋ,

 

āĻĒ⧃āĻĨāĻŋāĻŦā§€āϤ⧇ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋ āφāϰ āϏāĻŽā§āĻŽāĻžāύ, āĻāϟāĻžāχ āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āϚāĻžāχ!

 

āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

 

Mihai Munteanu

 

WE WANT PEACE AND RESPECT IN THE WORLD 

 

The language we speak has its roots,

 

Stuck in the ground, in the ancestral earth

 

Over time, brambles grew around her

 

But I cleaned them, so they wouldn’t defile it.

 

For freedom I shed much blood,

 

Bare-chested to battle I went out, With only the flag in our hands, this is how we fought, With those clothes, how much they coveted us.

 

For years and years they oppressed us, and imprisoned us, As a race, as a port, and a language so pure,

 

But they haven’t converted us yet, they just tried

 

Slow to exile us, to put his fist in his mouth.

 

We will stay forever, and defend this land,

 

Let the whole world know that we never give up.

 

We do not abdicate… we made a covenant with the country, Peace and respect in the world, that’s all we seek!

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

ÂŠī¸Author: Mihai Munteanu

25.03.2024

āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ

āĻ…āĻļā§āϰ⧁ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻŦ⧁āϞ⧇āĻŸā§‡āϰ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝ⧇ āφāĻ¤ā§āĻŽāĻžāĻšā§āϤāĻŋ āĻĻ⧇āĻ“ā§ŸāĻž āφāĻ¤ā§āĻŽāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ, āϏāĻžāĻšāϏ⧀āĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻŦ⧁āϕ⧇ āϤāĻžāϞāĻžāĻŦāĻĻā§āϧ āĻŦā§āϝāĻĨāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ, āϜ⧁āρāχ āĻĢ⧁āϞ āφāϰ āϏāĻžāĻĻāĻž āϞāĻŋāϞāĻŋ āĻĢ⧁āĻŸā§‡āϛ⧇

āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻ•āĻĒā§‹āϤ āĻ—āĻžāύ āĻ—āĻžā§Ÿ āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ…

āϏ⧂āĻ°ā§āϝ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āωāĻšā§āϚ āφāύāĻ¨ā§āĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻšā§ƒāĻĻā§Ÿā§‡āϰ āĻ•āĻžāĻ¨ā§āύāĻž āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻļāĻŋāĻļ⧁āĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻ•āĻŖā§āĻ  āĻšāĻžāϏāĻŋ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻļāĻž āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ⧇āϰ āωāĻšā§āϚ āĻ—āĻžāύ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āφāϞ⧋…

*āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

Š āĻāϞ⧇āύāĻž āύ⧇āĻĄā§‡āϞāϕ⧁

Elena Nedelcu

Independence day

For the souls who sacrificed themselves amid tears and bullets, For the pain locked in the chests of the brave,

Jasmine flowers and white lilies grew

And the doves sing their flight to freedom…

A cry of high joy hearts to the sun and children’s voices bring smiles and peace… Because Independence day high songs and light…

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

ÂŠī¸Author: Elena Nedelcu.

āĻ…āĻĄā§‡ āϟ⧁ āĻĻā§āϝ āĻĢāϞāύ

āύāĻŋāĻˇā§āϠ⧁āϰ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϞ⧜āĻžāχ, āϝāĻ–āύ āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ āϏ⧁āĻˇā§āϠ⧁ āĻšā§Ÿ āύāĻž, āύāĻŋāĻˇā§āĻĒāĻžāĻĒ āĻļāĻŋāĻļ⧁āϰāĻž āĻŽāϰ⧇, āĻŦ⧁āĻ• āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āϰāĻ•ā§āϤ āĻāϰ⧇āĨ¤ āϏāĻĒā§āύ āĻŽāϰ⧇ āĻĒāϰāĻŋāĻ–āĻžā§Ÿ, āφāĻ•āĻžāĻļ āĻ•āĻžāρāĻĻ⧇ āĻ—ā§‹āϞāĻž āĻĻāĻŋā§Ÿā§‡, āĻŦāχāϤ⧇ āϕ⧇āĻŦāϞ āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧāχ āφāϛ⧇ āϝāĻž āϕ⧇āĻŦāϞ āύāĻŋāĻ¸ā§āϤ⧇āϜ āĻŽāύ āϖ⧁āϞ⧇ āĻĻā§‡ā§ŸāĨ¤ āĻŦ⧃āĻˇā§āϟāĻŋāϰ āĻŦāĻĻāϞ⧇ āĻŽā§‡āϘ āĻ•āĻŋāĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇ āĻŽā§ƒāĻ¤ā§āϝ⧁āϕ⧇ āĻĸ⧇āϞ⧇ āĻĻā§‡ā§Ÿ āϤāĻž āĻĻ⧇āĻ–āĻž āĻ āĻŋāĻ• āύ⧟,

āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϧāĻ•āĻžāϰ⧇ āĻ—āĻžāϛ⧇āϰ āĻĄāĻžāϞāĻ“ āϞ⧋āĻšāĻžāϰ āĻŦāĻžāρāĻ• āύāĻŋā§Ÿā§‡! āĻļ⧁āϧ⧁āĻŽāĻžāĻ¤ā§āϰ āύāĻžā§ŸāĻ•āϰāĻž āϜāϞāĻĒāĻžāχ āĻļāĻŦā§āĻĻāϟāĻŋ āωāĻĒāϞāĻŦā§āϧāĻŋ āĻ•āϰ⧇, āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻŦ⧇āĻĻāύāĻžā§Ÿ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ āĻĻā§‡ā§Ÿ, āĻĒ⧃āĻĨāĻŋāĻŦā§€āϤ⧇ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋ āϚāĻžā§ŸāĨ¤ āφāϜ āĻ•āĻžāĻŽāĻžāύ⧇āϰ āĻ—ā§‹āϞāĻž āĻ•āĻžāĻĻāĻžāĻŽāĻžāϟāĻŋāϤ⧇ āĻŦāĻŋāĻ›āĻžāύāĻž āϤ⧈āϰāĻŋ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āĻĒāϰ, āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧāϕ⧇ āύāĻŋāĻ°ā§āĻŽā§‚āϞ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āϚāĻžāχ, āĻļāĻŋāĻ•ā§œ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āϕ⧇āĻŸā§‡ āĻĢ⧇āϞāϤ⧇ āϚāĻžāχāĨ¤ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻŦā§€āϰāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻ•āĻžāϛ⧇ āϝāĻžāϰāĻž āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ āĻŦ⧇āĻĻāύāĻžāϰ āωāĻĒāϰ āĻ—ā§œā§‡ āϤ⧁āϞ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āφāϜ āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒāĻžāĻ āĻžāĻšā§āĻ›āĻŋ āĻāĻ•āϟ⧁ āφāϰāĻžāĻŽā§‡āϰ āφāĻļāĻžā§ŸāĨ¤

*āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

ŠāĻ…ā§āϝāĻžāĻžā§āĻœā§‡āϞāĻŋāĻ•āĻž āĻŽāĻžāύ⧋āϞ- āϰ⧋āĻŽāĻžāύāĻŋ⧟āĻž

Ode to the Fallen

Cruel is our fight, when the war is not fair,

Innocent children die, life bleeds from the chest.

The dream dies in the trenches, the sky cries with shells,

Only war is in the book that only dull minds open.

It is not right to see how the cloud sifts death instead of rain, Even the trees in the dark, the branches with iron bend! Only heroes grasp the olive word, They give their lives in pain, asking for peace on earth.

Today after the cannonball made its bed in the clay,

We want to eradicate war, to cut it from the roots.

And to the heroes who built their lives on pain,

We send them today longing for a little comfort.

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

ÂŠī¸ Author: Angelica Manole.

 

āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āωāĻšā§āϚ āϛ⧁āϟāĻŋāϰ āĻĻāĻŋāύ

 

āĻŽāĻŋāĻˇā§āϟāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻžāϰ āĻšāĻžāĻ“ā§ŸāĻžā§Ÿ, āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻšā§ƒāĻĻ⧟ āϏ⧁āϖ⧇ āĻŦāĻžāϏ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĨ¤ āϞ⧇āĻ–āĻž āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻŦ⧇ āĻ…āύāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻ•āĻžāϞ āϧāϰ⧇, āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻž āĻ“ āĻ­āĻžāϞ⧋āĻŦāĻžāϏāĻžāĨ¤ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋāϰ āϏāĻžāĻĻāĻž āϘ⧁āϘ⧁ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻ•āĻžāϛ⧇ āĻ‰ā§œā§‡ āϝāĻžā§Ÿ, āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāĻŋ⧟ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻĒā§āϰāĻŋ⧟ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ āĻœā§ā§œā§‡, āĻ•āĻŖā§āϠ⧇āϰ āϐāĻļā§āĻŦāϰāĻŋāĻ• āĻ—āĻžāύ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇, āĻšā§ƒāĻĻā§Ÿā§‡ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ āĻĒā§āϰ⧇āĻŽ āĻĒā§āϰāϚāĻžāϰ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĨ¤ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻŦ⧇āϰ āϘāĻŖā§āϟāĻž āĻŦāĻžāϜāϛ⧇, āĻĒā§āϰāĻžāĻšā§€āύ āĻ­ā§‚āĻŽāĻŋāϤ⧇ āĻ­ā§‚āĻŽāĻŋ āĻœā§ā§œā§‡, āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύāĻ“ āϰ⧋āĻĻ⧇ āĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ, āωāĻœā§āĻœā§āĻŦāϞ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻ­āĻžāϞ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ āĻ“āĻ­āĻžāϰ. āφāĻ•āĻžāĻļ⧇āϰ āύ⧀āϞ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āωāĻĒāĻ¤ā§āϝāĻ•āĻž, āĻŽāĻ™ā§āĻ—āϞ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āφāϞ⧋āϤ⧇ āĻŦāϏāĻŦāĻžāϏ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ, āφāϜ āĻĻ⧇āĻŦāĻ¤ā§āĻŦ āφāĻŽāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒāĻĨ āĻĻ⧇āĻ–āĻžā§Ÿ, āĻšāĻžāϏāĻŋ-āφāύāĻ¨ā§āĻĻ⧇ āĻ­āϰāĻž āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ⧇āĨ¤

 

*āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

Š āĻāϞ⧇āύāĻž āĻ•ā§āϝāĻžāϏ⧇āϰāĻŋāω

 

Elena Căşeriu

 

ON A HIGH HOLIDAY

 

Through the breezes of sweet freedom,

 

Our heart lives happiness.

 

It remains written for eternity,

 

For the country, respect and love.

 

The white doves of peace fly to us,

 

Over our beloved and dear country,

 

Accompanied by the divine song of the voice,

 

Love of country in hearts

propagates.

 

Festive bells are ringing for us, Across the land in the ancient land, Our life is also full of sunshine, Over the bright and good life.

 

The blue of the sky is our valley, For well-being and living in the light, Today the divinity guides our way, In life full of smiles and joy.

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

ÂŠī¸: Elena Căşeriu

March 26, 2024

āĻŦā§€āϰ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧋āĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ

āχāϞāĻŋāϝāĻŧāĻžāύāĻž āĻĒāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϕ⧁

    āϰ⧋āĻŽāĻžāύāĻŋāϝāĻŧāĻž

āϝāĻ–āύ āĻŦāϏāĻ¨ā§āϤ āĻŦāĻžāϤāĻžāϏ⧇

āϜāύāĻ—āϪ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝ⧇ āĻĻ⧁āĻ°ā§āĻ­āĻŋāĻ•ā§āώ āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āχ āĻ˜ā§‹āώāĻŖāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āϛ⧇

āϕ⧇āύ āĻ­āĻžāχ āĻāϕ⧇ āĻ…āĻĒāϰāϕ⧇ āϘ⧃āĻŖāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇

āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻ•āĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāĻĻā§āϰ⧋āĻšā§‡āϰ āĻĄāĻžāĻ• āĻĻ⧇āĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻž āĻšāϝāĻŧ?

āφāĻ¤ā§āĻŽāĻžāϕ⧇ āϕ⧇āύ āĻŽāϰāϤ⧇ āĻšāĻŦ⧇?

āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϝ āφāĻšāϤ āφāĻ¤ā§āĻŽāĻž, āφāϘāĻžāϤ?

āϜāύāĻ—āĻŖ āϕ⧇āύ āϏāĻžāĻ°ā§āĻŦāϭ⧌āĻŽ āĻšāϤ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāϰ⧇ āύāĻž?

āĻ•āĻŋ āĻ­āĻžāώāĻž, āϐāϤāĻŋāĻšā§āϝ, āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦāĻžāϏ…

āϤāĻžāϕ⧇ āĻāϤāĻŋāĻŽ āϰ⧇āϖ⧇ āϕ⧇āύ?

āύāϝāĻŧ āĻŽāĻžāϏ, āĻāĻ• āĻĒā§āϝāĻžāρāϚ āϜāĻŽāĻŋ

āφāϗ⧁āύ⧇ āĻĒ⧁āĻĄāĻŧ⧇ āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ, āĻŦ⧃āĻˇā§āϟāĻŋ āφāϰ āĻŦāĻžāϤāĻžāϏ⧇

āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻž āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇āϛ⧇, āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ⧇āϰ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ

āĻĒā§‚āĻ°ā§āĻŖ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āχāĻšā§āĻ›āĻž āĻšāĻŋāϏ⧇āĻŦ⧇

āĻŦ⧁āϕ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇ āϗ⧁āϞāĻŋ āĻĨ⧇āĻŽā§‡ āϗ⧇āϞ

āĻ•āĻžāϰāĻŖ āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻšā§‡āϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ

āϝ⧁āĻŦāĻ• āĻšā§‹āĻ• āĻŦāĻž āĻŦ⧃āĻĻā§āϧ, āύāĻžāϰ⧀ āĻšā§‹āĻ• āĻŦāĻž āĻĒ⧁āϰ⧁āώ

āĻĒāĻĨ⧇ āϝāĻž āĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁ āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĻ⧇āĻ–āĻž āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ āϏāĻŦāχ āĻ§ā§āĻŦāĻ‚āϏ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇ āϗ⧇āϛ⧇

āύāĻŋāϰāĻĒāϰāĻžāϧ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ, āĻĒāĻžāĻĒ āĻ›āĻžāĻĄāĻŧāĻž…

āĻšā§āϟ āĻ•āϰ⧇āχ āϕ⧇āĻŸā§‡ āϗ⧇āϛ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāρāϚ āĻĻāĻļāĻ•

āφāϰ āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋ āĻĒ⧇āϞ

āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύ, āύāĻŋāϜ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇ āĻ“āĻ¸ā§āϤāĻžāĻĻ

āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϏāĻžāĻ°ā§āĻŦāϭ⧌āĻŽ, āϰāĻžāĻˇā§āĻŸā§āϰ⧇āϰ āϏ⧀āĻŽāĻžāύāĻžāϰ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝ⧇

āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāϏāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧇ āĻ—āĻžāϛ⧇ āĻĢ⧁āϞ āĻĢā§‹āĻŸā§‡

āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ⧇āϰ āφāĻ¤ā§āĻŽāĻž āĻ­āĻžāϞāĻŦāĻžāϏāĻžāϝāĻŧ āωāĻˇā§āĻŖ āĻšāϝāĻŧ

āĻ­āĻžāχ, āĻ­āĻžāχ āĻĨāĻžāϕ⧁āĻ• āύāĻž āϕ⧇āύ

āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋ āϰāĻžāϜāĻ¤ā§āĻŦ āĻ•āϰ⧇, āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāĻĻāĻŋāύ!

 

āĻļ⧁āĻ­ āϜāĻ¨ā§āĻŽāĻĻāĻŋāύ, āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ!āĻļ⧁āĻ­ āϜāĻ¨ā§āĻŽāĻĻāĻŋāύ, āĻŦāĻžāĻ™āĻžāϞāĻŋ!

 

*āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

Tribute

 

  Ileana Pascu

         Romania

 

When spring is in the air

The famine in the people announced itself

Why do brothers hate each other

And are they called to revolt?

Why must souls die?

And other wounded souls, to hurt?

Why can’t a people be sovereign

What language, tradition, faith…

Why leave him an orphan?

Nine months, a patch of land

Burnt in flames, in rain and wind

Tribute they gave, human lives

As a wish to fulfill

With the chest the bullets stopped

Because they wanted Independence

Whether young or old, woman or man

Everything they met on the way was annihilated

…Innocent people, without sin…

Five decades have passed in haste

And Bangladesh found peace

Independent, master in his own country

And Sovereign, between state borders

Every spring, the trees bloom

People’s souls are warmed with love

Brother, remain brother, no matter what

And peace reigns, every day!

 

Happy birthday, Bangladesh!

   Happy birthday, Bengali people!

26.03.2024

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

āĻĄā§‹āϰāĻž āϤ⧇āĻ“āĻĄā§‹āϰāĻž āĻĄāĻžā§ŸāĻžāϕ⧋āύ⧇āĻ¸ā§āϕ⧁ āϭ⧟āϚāĻŋāϟāĻž

 

āĻļ⧁āĻ­ āϜāĻ¨ā§āĻŽāĻĻāĻŋāύ, āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ!

 

āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ, āĻĢā§āϰāĻŋ āĻĒāĻžāϏ āφāϞ⧋āϰ āϏāĻžāĻŽāύ⧇ āϏ⧇ āϤāĻžāϰ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻžāϰ āĻ—āĻžāύ āĻ—āĻžā§Ÿ āϝ⧇āĻ–āĻžāύ⧇ āϏāĻŽāĻ¸ā§āϤ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻ°ā§āĻ— āϤāĻžāϰ āĻŦ⧇āĻĻāύāĻž āĻĻ⧇āϖ⧇āϛ⧇āĨ¤ āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ āĻ“ā§ŸāĻžāϟāĻžāϰ āϞāĻŋāϞāĻŋ āϏ⧇ āφāϜ āĻšā§‹āϖ⧇āϰ āϜāϞ āĻŽā§āϛ⧇āϛ⧇ āφāĻ˛ā§āϞāĻžāĻšāϰ āĻšāĻžāϤ⧇ āϝ⧇āĻ–āĻžāύ⧇ āĻŽā§ƒāϤ āĻ“ āύāĻžāϰ⧀ āϤāĻžāϰ āĻĒāĻžāĻĒ⧜āĻŋāĨ¤ āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ, āϜāĻ¨ā§āĻŽāĻ—āϤ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ āϏ⧇āχ āϏāĻ‚āĻ—ā§āϰāĻžāĻŽ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āϝāĻžāϰāĻž āφāϰ āύ⧇āχ āφāĻĻāĻ°ā§āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ āφāϜ āϏ⧌āĻ¨ā§āĻĻāĻ°ā§āϝ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĢāĻžāϰāĻŋāĨ¤ āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ āĻļāĻžāĻĒāϞāĻž āĻĄā§āĻĄāϞ⧇āϰ āĻļāĻŋāĻ˛ā§āĻĒāĻ•āĻ°ā§āĻŽ āϜāĻžāĻ¤ā§€ā§Ÿ āĻĒā§āϰāϤ⧀āĻ• āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āϤāĻžāϰ āϏāĻŽāĻ¸ā§āϤ āĻĻ⧇āĻŦāĻĻā§‚āϤāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇ āĻ—āĻžāύ āĻ•āϰ⧇āύ,

 

āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋ!

 

āĻļ⧁āĻ­ āϜāĻ¨ā§āĻŽāĻĻāĻŋāύ āĻŦāĻŋāĻ¸ā§āĻŽā§ŸāĻ•āϰ āĻŽāĻžāύ⧁āώ!

 

*āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

 

Dora Teodora Diaconescu Voichita.

 

 

Happy birthday, Bangladesh!

 

Bangladesh, free pass In front of the light He sings his freedom Where all heaven saw his pain.

 

Bangladesh water lily

 

He wiped his tear today

 

By the hand of Allah

 

Where dead and women are his petals.

 

Bangladesh, born people From the struggle of those who are no longer Land of ideals Today a safari of beauty.

 

Bangladesh

 

Shapla Doodle’s artwork The national emblem He sings with all his angels, Peace!

 

Happy birthday wonderful people!

 

Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

 

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

ÂŠī¸Author: Dora Teodora Diaconescu Voichita.

āĻ­āĻŋāĻ•ā§āĻŸā§‹āϰāĻŋ⧟āĻž āϏ⧋āϰāĻŋ⧟āĻž

āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻž

āĻ­āĻŋāĻ•ā§āĻŸā§‹āϰāĻŋ⧟āĻž āϏ⧋āϰāĻŋ⧟āĻž, āϰ⧋āĻŽāĻžāύāĻŋ⧟āĻž āĻ—āϤāĻŋāϰ āĻŦ⧁āϕ⧇ āϝ⧇ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āϞ⧜āĻžāχ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āύāĻŋāĻœā§‡āĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻŸā§āϝāĻžāĻ™ā§āĻ• āĻŸā§āĻ°ā§āϝāĻžāϕ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻŽāύ⧇ āϰ⧇āϖ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ, āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻļāĻŋāϞāĻž āĻļāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϰ āύāĻžā§ŸāĻ• āϝāĻž āϤāĻžāϰ āĻĻ⧇āĻļāϕ⧇ āϭ⧇āϤāϰ⧇ āϭ⧇āϤāϰ⧇ āϰāĻ•ā§āώāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āĨ¤ āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ, āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻž, āĻŦāĻ¨ā§āĻĻ⧁āĻ• āύ⧀āϰāĻŦ āϝāĻžāϤ⧇ āĻ¤ā§āϝāĻžāĻ— āĻ¸ā§āĻŦā§€āĻ•āĻžāϰ āĻ•āϰāĻž āĻšā§Ÿā§‡āϛ⧇ āφāϏ⧁āύ āφāĻŽāϰāĻž āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻ—āĻ­ā§€āϰ āĻ•ā§ƒāϤāĻœā§āĻžāϤāĻž āϜāĻžāύāĻžāχ

āφāϏ⧁āύ āϏ⧇āχ āĻŦāĻžāĻšā§āϚāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻ¨ā§āĻ¤ā§āĻŦāύāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāχ āϝāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āφāϰ āĻŦāĻžāĻŦāĻž āύ⧇āχāĨ¤

āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻ āĻšāϞ⧋ āĻĒāĻžāϤāĻž āϏāĻš āĻ—āĻžāĻ›, āĻ—āĻ­ā§€āϰ āĻļāĻŋāĻ•ā§œ āĻĻāĻŋā§Ÿā§‡, āφāĻŽāĻŋ āĻĒā§āϰāĻžāĻ°ā§āĻĨāύāĻž āĻ•āϰāĻ›āĻŋ āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āϤāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āφāĻ¤ā§āĻŽāĻž āĻ“ āϰāĻ•ā§āϤ āĻĻāĻŋā§Ÿā§‡āϛ⧇ āϤāĻžāϰāĻž āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇ āĻ“ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦ⧇ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋ āϚāĻžā§ŸāĨ¤

*āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

Š āĻ­āĻŋāĻ•ā§āĻŸā§‹āϰāĻŋ⧟āĻž āϏ⧋āϰāĻŋ⧟āĻž

Tribute to the martyrs

Victoria Sorea, Romania

Speed chests that fight for freedom They put themselves in front of the tank tracks, They are the heroes with rock

powers What defends his country inside and outside.

Honor to them, to the martyrs in

battle, What sacrifices have been made so that the guns are silent Let us bear them deep gratitude Let’s comfort children who no longer have a father.

Martyrs are trees with leaves, With deep roots, I am prayer They gave their soul and blood for the country

Speed chests that fight for freedom They put themselves in front of the tank tracks,

They are the heroes with rock powers What defends his country inside and outside.

Honor to them, to the martyrs in battle, What sacrifices have been made so that the guns are silent Let us bear them deep gratitude Let’s comfort children who no longer have a father.

Martyrs are trees with leaves, With deep roots, I am prayer They gave their soul and blood for the country

They wanted Peace in the country and in the world.

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

ÂŠī¸Author: Victoria Sorea.

āĻĒā§āϰāϞāĻžāĻĒ āĻĨ⧇āϕ⧇ āĻŦāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤāĻŦāϤāĻž āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āϏ⧇āϤ⧁ āĻ…āύāĻ¨ā§āϤ

 

 āωāĻ¨ā§āĻŽāĻ¤ā§āϤāĻ­āĻžāĻŦ⧇, āϏāĻŽā§āĻĻā§āϰ⧇āϰ āĻĸ⧇āω āĻ…āĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻāĻĄāĻŧ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļ⧃āĻ™ā§āĻ–āϞ āĻĻāĻŋāύ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ¨ā§āĻ§ā§āϝāĻžāϝāĻŧ āϝāĻ¨ā§āĻ¤ā§āϰāĻŖāĻžāϝāĻŧ āĻ•āĻžāρāĻĒāϛ⧇,

 

 āĻĻāĻŋāĻ—āĻ¨ā§āϤ⧇āϰ āϕ⧋āĻĨāĻžāĻ“, āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻ­āĻ™ā§āϗ⧁āϰ āϜāĻžāĻšāĻžāϜ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āύāĻŋāϰāĻžāĻĒāĻĻ āĻĒāĻĨ⧇āϰ āϏāĻŽā§āĻ­āĻžāĻŦāύāĻž āϖ⧁āρāĻœā§‡ āĻĒāĻžāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ āφāĻļāĻžāϝāĻŧ, āĻāĻ•āϜāύ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝāĻŦāϝāĻŧāϏ⧀ āĻ…āϧāĻŋāύāĻžāϝāĻŧāĻ• āϏāĻŽā§āĻĻā§āϰ⧇āϰ āϏāĻžāĻĨ⧇ āϞāĻĄāĻŧāĻžāχ āĻ•āϰāĻžāϰ āĻšā§‡āĻˇā§āϟāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇, āϏ⧇āĻ–āĻžāύ⧇, āϝ⧇āĻ–āĻžāύ⧇ āϕ⧇āω āĻŦāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤāĻŦāϤāĻžāϰ āĻ›āĻžāϝāĻŧāĻžāϗ⧁āϞāĻŋāϰ āĻ…āύāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻĻ⧃āĻˇā§āϟāĻŋāĻ­āĻ™ā§āĻ—āĻŋāϰ āĻŽāĻžāĻ§ā§āϝāĻŽā§‡ āϏāĻžāĻšāϏ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āύāĻž,

 

 āϜāϞ⧇āϰ āϏ⧀āĻŽāĻžāĻšā§€āύāϤāĻž āϤāĻŋāύāĻŋ āφāϜ āĻ…āĻŦāϧāĻŋ āĻ…āύ⧁āĻ­āĻŦ āĻ•āϰ⧇āĻ›āĻŋāϞ⧇āύ, āĻ•āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧁ āĻāĻ–āύ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāϟāĻŋ āωāĻĒāĻžāϝāĻŧ⧇, āĻĒāĻŦāĻŋāĻ¤ā§āϰ āϏāĻ‚āϝ⧋āĻ—āϟāĻŋ āĻŽā§āϞāĻžāύ āĻšāϝāĻŧ⧇ āϗ⧇āϛ⧇āĨ¤

 

 “āφāĻŽāĻžāϕ⧇ āϜāĻŽāĻŋāϤ⧇ āϝ⧇āϤ⧇ āĻšāĻŦ⧇,” āϏ⧇ āϏāĻžāĻšāϏ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āĻŦāϞāϞāĨ¤ “āϏāĻŽā§āĻĻā§āϰ āφāϜ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻ…āύāĻŋāϰāĻžāĻĒāĻĻ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻ…āĻŦāĻžāĻžā§āĻ›āĻŋāϤ āĻĢāĻžāρāĻĻ⧇ āĻĒāϰāĻŋāĻŖāϤ āĻšā§‹āĻ• āύāĻž āϕ⧇āύ, āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤ āĻŦāĻžāĻ¸ā§āϤāĻŦāϤāĻžāϰ āĻĒāĻĨ āĻĢāĻŋāϰ⧇ āĻĒāĻžāĻ“āϝāĻŧāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻāχ āϏāĻŽāĻ¸ā§āϤ āĻĒā§āϰāϞāĻžāĻĒ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻ§ā§āϝ⧇, āφāĻŽāĻŋ āĻāχ āϜāĻžāĻšāĻžāĻœā§‡ āύāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āϚāϞ⧇āĻ›āĻŋ āφāĻļāĻž, āĻ­āĻžāϞāĻŦāĻžāϏāĻž, āĻŽāĻšāĻžāĻŦāĻŋāĻļā§āĻŦ⧇āϰ āĻļāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ, āϏāĻŽāĻ¸ā§āϤ āĻŽāĻŋāϞāĻŋāϤ āĻāĻ•āϤāĻž, āĻāϟāĻž āĻ•āĻ āĻŋāύ, āφāĻŽāĻŋ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĻā§āϰ⧇ āĻŦāĻžāϤāĻžāϏ⧇āϰ āϧāĻžāĻ•ā§āĻ•āĻž āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇ āĻ¸ā§āϰ⧋āϤ⧇āϰ āĻŦāĻŋāĻĒāϰ⧀āϤ⧇ āύ⧇āĻ­āĻŋāϗ⧇āϟ āĻ•āϰāϤ⧇ āϜāĻžāύāĻŋ,

 

 āĻ•āĻŋāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧁ āϝāĻĻāĻŋ āφāĻŽāĻŋ āĻāϟāĻŋ āϤ⧈āϰāĻŋ āĻ•āϰāĻŋ, āϏāĻŦāĻžāχ āĻāϟāĻŋ āϤ⧈āϰāĻŋ āĻ•āϰāĻŦ⧇, āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϝāĻĻāĻŋ āφāĻ—āĻžāĻŽā§€āĻ•āĻžāϞ āϏ⧂āĻ°ā§āϝ āωāĻœā§āĻœā§āĻŦāϞ āĻšāϝāĻŧ āϤāĻŦ⧇ āĻœā§€āĻŦāύ⧇āϰ āĻ—āϤāĻŋāĻĒāĻĨ āĻĒāϰāĻŋāĻŦāĻ°ā§āϤāύ āĻšāĻŦ⧇ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āφāĻļāĻžāϰ āφāϞ⧋ āϏāĻŦāϏāĻŽāϝāĻŧ āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻŦ⧇āĨ¤”

 

 āĻāĻĄāĻŧ āϤāĻžāϰ āωāĻ¤ā§āĻĨāĻŋāϤ āϤ⧀āĻŦā§āϰāϤāĻž āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āϏāĻŽā§āĻĻā§āϰ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋāϟāĻŋ āĻĻāĻŋāĻ• āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āφāϏāĻ¨ā§āύ āϜāĻžāĻšāĻžāϜ āĻ§ā§āĻŦāĻ‚āϏ⧇āϰ āχāĻ™ā§āĻ—āĻŋāϤ āĻĻ⧇āϝāĻŧ, āĻ•ā§āϝāĻžāĻĒā§āĻŸā§‡āύ āϏāĻ°ā§āĻŦā§‹āĻĒāϰāĻŋ āφāϞ⧋ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻļāĻžāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻŋāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻ…āύāĻ¨ā§āϤāĻ•āĻžāϞ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āϞāĻĄāĻŧāĻžāχ āĻ•āϰ⧇, āϤāĻŦ⧇ āĻŦāĻŋāĻļ⧇āώ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āĻāχ āĻ•ā§āϝāĻžāĻĒā§āĻŸā§‡āύ āϏāĻ°ā§āĻŦāĻĻāĻž āĻāĻ•āϜāύ āĻ…āϧāĻŋāύāĻžāϝāĻŧāĻ• āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻŦ⧇āύ, āĻœā§āĻžāĻžāύ āĻāĻŦāĻ‚ āĻļāĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ āĻĨāĻžāĻ•āĻŦ⧇āĨ¤

 āϏāĻŽā§āĻĻā§āϰ⧇āϰ āωāĻĒāϰ⧇ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āĻĄā§‡āĻ•, āĻ…āύāĻ¨ā§āϤ⧇āϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻāĻ•āϟāĻŋ āϏ⧇āϤ⧁ āϤ⧈āϰāĻŋ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āϤāĻžāϕ⧇ āĻāχ āĻāĻĄāĻŧā§‹ āĻĻāĻŋāύ⧇ āϜāϝāĻŧā§€ āĻ•āϰ⧇ āϤ⧁āϞ⧁āύāĨ¤

 

 *āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇ āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋāĨ¤

 

*āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ āωāĻĒāϞāĻ•ā§āώ⧇, āϏ⧇ āĻĻ⧇āĻļ⧇āϰ āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāϰ⧂āĻĒāĨ¤

 

ÂŠī¸āϞ⧇āĻ–āĻ•: āĻ“āύāĻž āύ⧂āϰāĻžāύ⧀

 

Delirium to reality A bridge to infinity

 

Frantically, the waves of the sea are trembling with torments into the evening of another stormy chaotic day,

 

Somewhere in the horizon, a fragile ship is hoping to find the possibility of a secure way, A middle-aged captain tries to fight the sea, there, where nobody dares through unique visions of reality’s shades,

 

The boundlessness of the water he felt until today, but now in every way, the sacred connection fades.

 

“I have to make it to the land,” he said bravely. “Regardless of whether the sea today became an unsecure and an unwanted trap, In all this delirium to regain the path of calm reality, I carry in this ship the hope, the love, the power of the Universe, all an entire unity combined, It’s hard, I know to navigate against the current with the ravages of the wind into the sea,

 

But if I make it, everyone will make it, and if the sun tomorrow shines the course of life will change and light of hope will always be.”

 

The storm its raised intensity and every aspect of the sea indicated an imminent shipwreck, the captain fights for light and peace, above all for eternity, But this particularly captain, will always be a captain, the knowledge and strength will

make him win this stormy day by building over sea a deck, a bridge to infinity.

 

*Dedication: On the occasion of the great Independence Day of Bangladesh, as a humble tribute to all the martyrs of the great liberation war of that country.

 

ÂŠī¸Author: Oana Noorani.

āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž āĻĻāĻŋāĻŦāϏ⧇āϰ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋ!

āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž

āĻŽā§‹āσ āϏāĻžāĻĻāĻŋāϕ⧁āϰ āϰāĻšāĻŽāĻžāύ āϰ⧁āĻŽā§‡āύ

 

āĻļāĻ¤ā§āϰ⧁āϰ āĻŽā§āϖ⧇ āϚ⧁āύāĻ•āĻžāϞāĻŋ āĻĻāĻŋāϝāĻŧ⧇

āĻāϞ⧇ āϤ⧁āĻŽāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāϤāĻž!

 

āĻŦāĻžāĻ™āĻžāϞāĻŋ āĻ•āĻžāϰ⧋ āĻŦāĻļā§āϝāϤāĻž āĻŽāĻžāύ⧇āύāĻž-

āĻŦāĻžāĻ™āĻžāϞāĻŋ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧ⧀āύāĻšā§‡āϤāĻž!

 

āϤ⧋āĻŽāĻžāϰ āϜāĻ¨ā§āϝ āĻĒā§āϰāĻžāĻŖ āĻŦāĻŋāϏāĻ°ā§āϜāύ āĻĻāĻŋāϤ⧇ āĻĒāϰ⧋āϝāĻŧāĻž āĻ•āϰ⧇āύāĻŋ āϕ⧋āύāĻ•āĻŋāϛ⧁!

 

āĻŦāĻžāĻ™āĻžāϞāĻŋ āĻ•āĻ–āύ⧋ āύāϤāĻļāĻŋāϰ āύāϝāĻŧ-

āĻŦāĻžāĻ™āĻžāϞāĻŋāϰ āĻŽāĻžāĻĨāĻž āϚāĻŋāϰāĻ•āĻžāϞ āωāρāϚ⧁!

 

āĻ‰ā§ŽāϏāĻ°ā§āĻ—: āϜāĻžāϤāĻŋāϰ āϜāύāĻ• āĻŦāĻ™ā§āĻ—āĻŦāĻ¨ā§āϧ⧁ āĻļ⧇āĻ– āĻŽā§āϜāĻŋāĻŦ⧁āϰ āϰāĻšāĻŽāĻžāύ, āĻŽāĻšāĻžāύ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧ⧇āϰ āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻļāĻšā§€āĻĻ āϏāĻš āϏāĻ•āϞ āĻŦā§€āϰāĻžāĻ™ā§āĻ—āύāĻž āĻ“ āϝ⧁āĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻšāϤ āĻŽā§āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋāϝ⧋āĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻĻ⧇āϰ āĻĒā§āϰāϤāĻŋ āĻŦāĻŋāύāĻŽā§āϰ āĻļā§āϰāĻĻā§āϧāĻžāĻžā§āϜāϞāĻŋāĨ¤

āϤāĻžāϰāĻŋāĻ–: ⧍ā§Ŧ āĻŽāĻžāĻ°ā§āϚ ⧍ā§Ļ⧍ā§Ē

Independence 

Md. Sadiqur Rahman Rumen

With lime ink on the face of the enemy

Freedom when you come

Bengalis do not obey Subordination anyone

Bengali independent.

To lay down life for you

Bengalis did not care about anything.

Bengalis never bow down

A Bengali’s head is always held high.

 

*Dedication: Humble tribute to Father of the Nation Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, all the martyrs of the Great War of Liberation, including all the heroes and martyred freedom fighters.

Date: 26 March 2024.

 

 

āϏāĻ‚āĻŦāĻžāĻĻāϟāĻŋ āĻļā§‡ā§ŸāĻžāϰ āĻ•āϰ⧁āύ

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

āφāϰ⧋ āϏāĻ‚āĻŦāĻžāĻĻ āĻĒ⧜⧁āύ
Š āϏāĻ°ā§āĻŦāĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻ¤ā§āĻŦ āĻ¸ā§āĻŦāĻ¤ā§āĻŦāĻžāϧāĻŋāĻ•āĻžāϰ āϏāĻ‚āϰāĻ•ā§āώāĻŋāĻ¤Â ÂŠÂ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
āĻĒā§āϰāϝ⧁āĻ•ā§āϤāĻŋ āϏāĻšāĻžā§ŸāϤāĻžā§Ÿ: āĻŦāĻžāĻ‚āϞāĻžāĻĻ⧇āĻļ āĻšā§‹āĻ¸ā§āϟāĻŋāĻ‚