Translated from Bangla by Md. Ziaul Haque.

Freedom, you’re
The classic verses of Tagore, timeless lyrics.
Freedom, you’re
Kazi Nazrul a great man with thick mane,
Freedom, you’re
The dazzling congregation at the Shahid Minar
Freedom, you’re
The procession of slogans and colours
Freedom, you’re
The smile on the farmer’s face in the land.
Freedom, you’re
The amusing swim of the pastoral girl in the pond during mid-day.
Freedom, you’re
The wiry muscles on an expert labourer’s sun-tanned arms.
Freedom, you’re
The twinkle in a freedom fighter’s eyes at the murky and isolated borders.
Freedom, you’re
The immaculate speech of a laudable learner beneath the silhouette of a banyan tree.
Freedom, you’re
The fiery conversation at the tea-shops and public gatherings.
Freedom, you’re
The thriving clout of the northwester at the horizon.
Freedom, you’re
The heart of the Meghna during rain
Freedom, you’re
The furry contact of the father’s prayer mat.
Freedom, you’re
The waves of the mother’s sari long-drawn-out in the patio.
Freedom, you’re
The tinge of henna on the sister’s malleable hand.
Freedom, you’re
A dazzling placard as the stars at the pal’s hand.
Freedom, you’re
The homemaker’s thick black locks turning untamed in the wind.
Freedom, you’re
The vibrant attire on a juvenile lad,
The playing of the rays on a lass’ sinuous cheeks.
Freedom, you’re
The abode amid a garden, the song at the cuckoo’s throat,
The peeping leaves of an antiquated banyan tree,
My notebook of poetry, for penning verses as I feel like.