Translated by Hossain Ahmed Arif Elahi
Your demonic dances—roaring laughter—retaliated fiercely
Your blood-stained hands— wrenched within nine months.
A country of poetry forever—conspired to be ravaged by the orgy
The Bangalis, a race known as the non-Aryans— short-statured,
rice-eating and timid.But what happened in the end? Who mounted heroic resistance?
The Bangla alphabet remained wandering into the vast stretch of wilderness.
As refugees unsheltered— villages scorched— mothers disgraced,
Swearing by the blood of the unknown, they at last turned into the
cartridges of revenge.
Bengal, the Brave Mother, with fire suppressed in her
breast for the dead—
Kept sleepless vigil on the banks of the Buriganga and the Padma.
Villages forayed by the dacoits, prowled by the invaders at midnight.
Could her youths rest slumbering in repose? Awakened, the blue
lotuses lay awake.
Taking up grenades in their hands—poets fought with rifles.
It is with fierce paws, this time the tigers would feast on vengeance,
The Bangalis will deal with every side what they deserve—
Fought, destroyed gleefully— left you humiliated.
Returned heroically— leaving off the night-waking exile,
Returned to Bengal, the Mother by flaunting the flags of Independence.
Professor Hossain Ahmed Arif Elahi is Director,
DSHE, Chattogram Zone