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!
A rose has
bloomed so far,
I get smell,
can't see her.
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.
It seems someone has cast a dark net
and the town has become a trout caught in that net;
It seems no morning has ever approached here,
the town has sub-merged in an over-flowing darkness.
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.