Here death, killing, violence and hunger
Round the clock play the game of doom;
Snatching, hijacking, injustice and inconvenience
Grow the grass of sorrow in the field of life.
Here life is like the Padma on whose banks
There stands the sandy sad shoal vast, stretched and lonely;
Still life does not bow down to sorrow,
Instead, it stands erect like the rocks.
Here drought, flood and tidal surge
Come like the giants in greed of life
And then inflicts raids and riots
On life like Azrael.
Yet what a stony hero my country is, it doesn't
Get cracked into parts in drought of sorrow!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem