English
Read the poem and answer the questions
Behold her, single in the field,
You solitray Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
O listen! for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the fatherst Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again?
Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o'er the sickle bending;
I listened, motionless and still;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.
Read the passage and answer the questions
It was a town of red brick, or of brick that would have been red if the smoke and ashes had allowed it; but as matters stood it was a town of unnatural red and black life the painted face of a savage. It was a town of machinery and tall chimneys, out of which interminable serpents of smoke trailed themselves forever and ever, and never got uncoiled.
Read the excerpt from the play Nuroldiner sara Jiban by Sayed Shamsul Haq and answer the questions
Get ready, ready, ready, ready, ready, wake, and start up. Look with careful eyes, listen with careful ears Listen carefully, brothers mine. [...] Nabab Sirajuddaulah has been defeated at Plassey The Gora [...] company rules the country now. The Gora playes four tricks to rule seating on my chest.
Debi Singh extracts taxes tying ropes around my throat, Tying the ropes around my throat he declares Pay the taxes with the bulls and cash money. Look at his tricks, brothers mine; If you want to sell rice you have to go to Mahajan, I grow rice; I grow jute with blood-like sweat, The Mahajan buys rice with the price of his sweet will. I pay the taxes with the rice money; what is left for.my child to eat? The tiller goes to the kutial (indigo planter] to borrow, Accepting a high interest rate, the tiller borrows rice, How do I pay back the borrowing? Again I borrow, Giving my cows and bull, giving my land, giving my land, giving everything
(Translated as Nuroldin by Khairul Haque Chowdhury)
Promotion
Download Our Mobile Apps
