An innocent boy leaving the lap of mother
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 the 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 Jibananando Das!
How many immortal pictures you have drawn, o Joinul!
How many songs you have composed, o Nazrul!
When you will read this poem composed in tears
After one hundred years,
Remember, on this day of three twelves
We swore by God dedicating us to ourselves
[Dedicated to all 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 have forgotten her love which made me insane.
I have forgotten all- meat, fish, sweets and ice-cream.
I am like a caged bird
That doesn't ever get tired
To find the way to fly
In the lovely blue sky.