Memory, you speak
Sitting on the sill of the doorway.
You speak 
Reclining against the window.
Sometimes you slump down
On the chair beside my reading table
And disarray the books. 
Sometimes at early dawn
You overpower my eyelids
And won't let me wake up.
Mixing with the shower
You make me feel your presence
In my entire body.
Memory, you sit on 
The carpet of the drawing-room
By spreading your legs 
Like a wayward adolescent.
Memory, you sit on 
The bonnet of my car 
And disturb my driving.
If I get angry,
You sit beside me 
And whistle with a naughty smile. 
Memory, you play the piano
And create a divine atmosphere,
Memory, you become fixed
In a wall painting.
Memory, you move away—
Fly away into the distant clouds.

Ahaduzzaman Mohammad Ali is a former professor of Dhaka University.