Tareq Samin- Bangladesh

Tareq Samin- Bangladesh


Biography of Tareq Samin

Tareq Samin is a Bangladeshi Secular Humanist Author. He is the Editor of the bilingual literary journal Sahitto. He is the author of eight books, including five poetry collections, two Short Stories collections and a Novel. Also he has translated into Bengali, two books of Anthology of International poetry of 22 poets from 20 countries. In total he has ten books published. His poems are translated in more than 20 languages including English, Spanish, Chinese, German, French, , Italian etc. Also his poems, short stories and articles are published in more than 25 countries.

Tareq Samin received the ‘International Best Poets Award-2020’ from The International Poetry Translation And Research Centre (IPTRC), China and the Greek Academy of Arts and Writing. Also he has been awarded ‘Honorable Mention’ in Foreign Language Authors category for his poem ‘Another Try’ in ‘The prize il Meleto di Guido Gozzano Agliè’ poetry competition held on 12 September 2020 in Turin, Italy. In July 2021 he won Naji Naaman Literary Prize 2021.

Tareq Samin is a Martin-Roth-Initiative Scholarship Alumni. The Martin Roth-Initiative is a joint program of ifa (Institut für Auslandsbeziehungen) and the Goethe-Institut, funded by the German Federal Foreign Office. The Martin Roth-Initiative protects artists who are dedicated to the freedom of the arts, democracy and human rights in their home country. As a Martin-Roth-Initiative Scholarship holder, he was a guest writer in Goethe-Institut, Kolkata, India. And Kathmandu, Nepal.

In 2021, he was also an International guest writer in Château de Lavigny International writers-in-residence,  Switzerland.

The Universal Brotherhood

Humanity is our common brotherhood

but we become divided

for our religious beliefs.

Humanity is our common strength

but we become weak

under many different faiths.

Humanity keeps us united

but we make enemies within ourselves

as Hindu, Muslim, Christian and Jews.

Humanity is love

and love is the supreme power

that connect us with all the divine powers of this universe.

Love for humanity is the divine strength

against all the false and hatred.

[Dedicated for peace between Israel and Palestine.]

At Morges and an afternoon at the bank of Geneva lake.

Walking can be a lovely experience

when you are in a new land.

the pictorial landscape

the silence, the raindrops.

The seagulls, the boats and the fisherman

at the port of Morges

at the bank of Geneva lake.

Being alone and loneliness not always crush

when you have water, lakes, mountains and the giant Sequoias

And they whisper! you are not alone

you are among us, you are with us

and we are too.

I will always love you

I will always love you

like the Pigeon in that window

love his mate so passionate.

like the blue sky in love with

the white cloud.

like that dog waiting his partner’s return

from sickness.

like that 90 years old man

holding his wife’s hand.

I will always love you

love you

love you

love you



always love you.

Like the gentle breeze

in love with the trees; every time they kiss.

Like the white mountain

in love with the snow.

Like a novelist

with his pen.

Like a poet

about his poem.

I will always love you

love you

love you

love you

love you till my last breath.

O human life, I pay homage to you.

O human life, I pay homage to you

in teary wet eyes

in birth and death

in mosques-temples-senegags pagodas and churches.

O human life, I honor you,

in atheism and skepticism

in hunger and starvation, in food and luxury

everywhere, O great life, your very existence.

O human life, I thank you,

you showed me

a dew on the grass

Water hyacinth flower, Flame of the forest and Red silk cotton trees.

And whatever is sacred

baby’s smile mother’s caress and father’s affection

books, pens and ink

generosity-love and forgiveness.

O human life, I thank you

everywhere, O great life, you exist.

Another try

I am not afraid of life
nor afraid of death.
But I think,
what will happen
after our death.
Will there someone waiting for you
Someone else will be mine
or will we become dust
or a molecule with an endless life.
How far we will travel
how many galaxies
how many stars
will you read my poems
when I will be the universal traveler.
Shall I feel this loneliness while

traveling star after star.
I want this human life back
with another try.
You will sit with me
I will sit beside.
And that will be time for our divine love
without endless cry.

The sunset in Nagarkot hills

I am standing with a friend

yet I am alone

and thinking about you.

The sun is setting in the west

of Nagarkot hills.

Twilight are visible at skyline

clouds are kissing with the forest greens.

birds and insects are making noisy sounds

evening temperature is getting chilled.

fogs and clouds are flying like soft cottons

and I am alone

with many people.

Most tourist couple have already left,

how unlucky they are

those did not kissed each other

in this foggy mountain evening.

Hatred and love

When hatred spreads the fire of division among men
Logic and intellect then lose the way;
Then; Come O mind,
O deprived human life
Let’s bathe in the love’s fresh water.
Only, exclusively love can
destroy the giant power of hatred,
So come today we love each other,
There is the dire need of love among mankind.

Author website: www.tareqsamin.com/welcome


Twirl of civilization

One hundred years ago,

To promote the message of socialist equality

That young man was killed in police firing;

Hundred years later after his rebirth

For  people’s right  of religion and freedom of expression

He was hanged till death by the communist.

Thousand years ago the spiritual man

who lighten the dark society

by the teachings of great religions

On that day, his beheaded head, scarred body

Was found for talking against religious extremist.

The young man who ignored the bitter cold

of the Himalayas

spends twenty years in meditation,

His body was found yesterday

Due to modernization of thoughts.

The young women who was a decade in prison

for democracy

Was shot for free thinking at her last life.

Because of inhuman’s

Socialism becomes dictatorial system,

Looting became a democratic system

Dishonesty becomes religion,

Freedom of speech is used to spread hatred

Everything because of power greedy people.

Those who gave their lives for the noble ideology

They are all great man, dignified.

Monopolization of their ideology, selling their name

greedy politicians take advantage from it.

Thus, the good from the evil, evil from the good

Turn around in the world continued

civilized became savage due to prejudice and ignorance.

Author’s Death


Death could not lose you

You are still alive in your writing,

Every death is separation and bereavement

But the death of author to readers

more than anything.

Your pen is silent in your death

The birth of each word is end now

You may not understand the pain of readers

So may not write it.

your death just not put us in sorrow,

Continue muted us.

You will not write!

Such a pain

What could be more for the reader!

Death could not lose you

Your creation is still alive.

In memory of Poet Allen Ginsberg

Beside the ‘Jessoreroad’  under the trees

Broken camp; humans covered with polythene,

Thin naked body, hollow eyes

Near Bangaon border in September’ 1971.

Allen Ginsberg angered in grieves;

insulting his almighty government

He wrote the immortal poem, “September on Jessore Road”.

Millions of East Pakistani refugees

Mourning, anguish and tremble of grief

afraid of torture , inhuman horror of war.

Hyena-like Kissinger-Bhutto’s atrocities

Yahya’s  bayonet-bullet-bombs and bloody wounds

Howl of Bengal, silent in Western world.

Allen Ginsberg seen in small scale

Yet the poet’s heart has felt countless

Sorrows of Human-soul.

Oil painting

‘Why not you draw my picture?’

suddenly she said.

A  girl of twenty,

depth of forest  in her face

eyes  are blue lagoons

lips are as soft as lotus.

thick black hair like a shiny  river,

many monks lost their way at her neck.

breast are like volcano

eruption is  underway.

beside the curvy Silk-Road

undulating desert parks her hip,

a spring beneath the mountain deep.

No other artist could be

canvas painted something different.

Yet she made me

painted her picture

using words


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