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  • Poverty - by Kazi Nazrul

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    Anwar Hossain
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    The poem describes the effects of poverty on the speaker. Poverty has given the speaker courage like Christ and his crown of thorns, as well as a razor-sharp tongue. Poverty has turned the speaker's lute into a sword and dried up his beauty, sentiment, and vitality early. Whenever the speaker receives gifts of beauty, poverty comes and takes it away, turning the speaker's utopia into a desert.

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    Poverty_by Kazi Nazrul

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    The poem describes the effects of poverty on the speaker. Poverty has given the speaker courage like Christ and his crown of thorns, as well as a razor-sharp tongue. Poverty has turned the speaker's lute into a sword and dried up his beauty, sentiment, and vitality early. Whenever the speaker receives gifts of beauty, poverty comes and takes it away, turning the speaker's utopia into a desert.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Flag for inappropriate content
    Download as pdf or txt
    124 views1 page

    Poverty - by Kazi Nazrul

    Uploaded by

    Anwar Hossain
    The poem describes the effects of poverty on the speaker. Poverty has given the speaker courage like Christ and his crown of thorns, as well as a razor-sharp tongue. Poverty has turned the speaker's lute into a sword and dried up his beauty, sentiment, and vitality early. Whenever the speaker receives gifts of beauty, poverty comes and takes it away, turning the speaker's utopia into a desert.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    Few lines of the poem “POVERY

    “
    _____________________By Kazi Nazrul Islam
    O Poverty, you have made me great.
    You have given me the honour of Christ __
    The crown of thorns. You have given me O Saint!
    Indomitable courage of unhesitating expression,
    Arrogant and bare outlook, razor-edged tongue
    My lute has turned into a sword under your curse.

    Your power of unbeatable burning, O proud Saint!


    Has discoloured my bright gold
    And dried up too early my beauty, sentiment and vitality.

    As many times as I take the gift of the beautiful


    in my emaciated palm
    O hungry, you come before me and drink it off.
    My utopia turns into a desert
    And my eyes pour forth fire of my own beautiful.

    Translated by: Korunamaya Goswami

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