By: Hasan Hafizur Rahman

Translated by:  Dr. Faruque Azam



will not the mother call by his name ever again?

like a tornado that name will resound

in the turbulent mind’s ground

round and round it will rise and call;

like the pearl between two lips it will not roll

and brighten no more. not in this entire life


how will you bear this unbearable weight?  how long?

abul, barkat are no longer here;

oh that unusually grown up large kid,

who would walk touching the roof of madhu’s stall.

call him no more; you would curl up with disgust if you do;

salam, rafikuddin, jabbar- a bunch of melancholy names

these names like sharp spear now pierces our heart;


we lost them, even before, we were prepared for separation

because, engulfing reactionary has

no respect for life and humanity;

 we lost them, even before we could think

because the trick of reaction calls upon

thousand deaths from one death


now we have lost them,

who would never be erased from our heart

and who would never let any one to calm down;

those whom we have lost, they have made us boundless

from one end to another of this land,

bits and pieces they are scattered

into the bright soul of this country

while drowning in the darkness of death.


abul barkat, salam , rafikquddin, jabbar

how amazing, how sad names are these.

indeed ,they are but a row of torching  names.


Like the farmer who plants the seed of rice in fertile land

With the hope of golden fruit,

So have I planted my subtle  sharp feelings into the depth of the crowd;

Oh My Country, the lesson that history has taught

The  pure  son of the land has exposed the radiance of  your  soul.. one that  shines in the blaze of golden rays;

That spark had touched the  edge of hungry souls.

Oh my  country, I have bathed into the  depth of your heart’s water

Like the laborer by mixing his talent  with creation

gleaming with contentment  he would rise  above and that fragrant touch

Anointing  my soul ,I looked up into the  sky

Once submerging my eyes in your hazy village Jamuna

like Thousands and thousands of rice paddy I see endless green of our heart

What amazing life is stretched across—I didn’t realize not even a day before

What amazing grace has flown into your millions of sons

Not even a day before, I realized, Oh my Country


Just remember the foggy eyes of your father

The shrill of a sister losing her only brother

Those Who have  told  truth in  the deep lonely moment of  heart

None of them are here now

One from the pair is missing

The melancholy eyed deer that lost its cub

Like the endless waves of the sea the boundless cry

The wailing cry from various directions,

The visionary has lost its vision

Oh my knowledge give me the poison of one utterance

This spreads from heart to heart

Like the medicinal birth,   shivering from once disdain

Knows death no more, oh my knowledge


The first heart wringing word of life

The utterance of first lesson of humanity

For that honor they stood in regiment

The gaze as bright and sharp as that of Buddha and Mohammad

Like the abundance of emotion at the eye of the needle

The seven stars in the sky that is marked in the depth of blue

The enemy of life have  snatched those  holy bodies

And their soul now we harbor in our heart to heart



Not a single one of them is here

No, The fifty of them are not here today

And  we for those immortal martyrs

Their dear word of  mouth, Bangla, we are united like layered stone

As the giantHimalayawe have become impenetrable


Oh My country. Like the flood

We have fertile one realization from all the  evidence of  experience

Now  we are the  cusp of Life  and death

Like in the skull of daring sailor in death defying sail

The  far away wind howls

Like that  here is a broken hearted woman, sakina

Here is the  mother and father,

Brother and sister, the grieving dear ones

And you, Oh my country.


Here we are face to face with Pharaoh’s last year’s defiance

Here we stand at the last chariot of the world

Oh My country, silent or ebullient, we are the verge of this conflict

They have shattered thousand voices  from the mother’s love

Now it’s only us  for you.

The slum  mother if  could  only hold a healthy child  suddenly in her arms

The way one can forget countless death of  wounded days

Just like that we have forgotten the death of  fifty martyrs

Mother, because we have  you

Now  nothing is left  to understand,

What you want, what you want what you want,

Oh my Mother!