২৭শে ফেব্রুয়ারি ২০২১ ইং | ১৪ই ফাল্গুন ১৪২৭ বঙ্গাব্দ
প্রকাশিত: ২:১৫ অপরাহ্ণ, জুলাই ৯, ২০১৮
Like bunches of Roktokorobi
Like the burning cloud at sunset
Asad’s shirt is waving in the wind, in the blue.
Might be his sister had fixed some starry buttons
In this solemn shirt of her brother
With the fine golden thread from her heart.
Many times, his old aged mom
Put it in the sun of home yard
With her affection stretched there.
Leaving the yard of mom,
Sunny and adorned with
Soft shadow of Pomegranate tree,
The shirt is now waving in the main street of the city
To the top of the factory chimney
At the avenue corners.
It is waving untiring
Into the sunny echoing field of our heart
At every turns of our consciousness.
A piece of clothes, so humanly!
Has covered up all our weakness,
Our cowardice, stain and regret.
Asad’s shirt is now the flag of our soul!
Translated by: Zahirul Hoque Mozumder