Asif Altaf
I am holding the palm of my hand like White sorrow
You can only call him delusional;
Some cunning leave the city
The wind has blown the village home;
Some unsaturated truths left the village;
Coming to town they are now slaves;
Alluring night like latex pies
The flow of its beetles flowing through the body;
Dead broilers smiling on the plate of urban civilization
Thinking barbecue is swallowing up; gossip is civic life;
I am holding the palm of my hand like White sorrow
You can only call him visual illusion
[Asif Altaf was born on 1August 1968 in Bangladesh. At the age of 15years, the first poem of Asif altaf was published in ‘The monthly Sobuj Potro ’. He has been working as a acting principal Alhaj Sarwar khan degree college other hand Journalist in the ‘The Daily Purbanchal; And author of 3 books which is the collection of poems: Krisno Meger Kabbo (2000), Jotkinchit (2003) and Jolotresnay Kade Joloj Sorir. He got master degree in Bangla from Rajshahi University of Bangladesh in 1989. His poems was published in the daily newspapers of Bangladesh .India, and Nepal. He also attended many poetry and literary festivals home and abroad.]