An innocent boy leaving the lap of mom
Opened his fearful eyes in the war-trodden world
And asked in a depressed voice, 'Where have I come? '
I told him the name of earth.
Forget me not,
Forget not me.
Forget day hot,
Keep night with thee.
How many poems you have written, o Tagore!
How many poems, o Jibanananda Das!
How many immortal pictures you have drawn, o Zainul!
How many songs you have composed, o Nazrul!
A rose has bloomed so far,
I get smell, can't see her.
A rose has bloomed so high,
Those who after one hundred years
Will read this poem composed in tears,
Remember, this day of three twelves
We swore by God dedicating us to ourselves
[Dedicated to the dead rivers of Bangladesh]
Once these paths were rivers,
These fields the processions of water.
I have forgotten her face once I loved.
I have forgotten her name once I recited in dream.
I am like a caged bird
Does not ever get tired
To find the way to fly
In the lovely blue sky.