The village, Tungipara, the spring land of our dreams,
Feels proud of having you in her womb;
Rolling about in her very dust and mud
Swimming in her river, the Baigar;
Walking through incessant rainfalls;
Mingling with processions of struggle;
Chanting slogans in the streets for people’s liberty;
From the very childhood
You have always been very intimate with the masses;
You are the beloved daughter of our alluvial land.
You are the lush-green Lady of this eternal Bengal;
When you appear within birds’ view, they sing;
Unbounded chirpings and their recurring echoes
over brim the air and sky
Fast as a rabbit, slumbers flee away from Nature’s eyes.
By wonderful leaping, fishes respond your call;
Your sari carries
The elegance of crops-paddy, grass, variety of seeds, and weeds, etc;
You are the embodiment of all Bengali seasons all over the world
You are discovered
In scorching heat of summer- under shades of banyan trees;
In panoramic river-cruises during the monsoon;
In the white Kaash blossoms in autumn;
In the late autumn paddy; ripe and golden;
In the dew-soaked warmth of winter sun;
And in the sprouting leaves of spring trees.
In the blood-smeared Bengal of your kinsmen
Defying killers’ threats, overcoming deadly attacks;
Hiding stones of a painful sea beneath your chest;
Floating in the ocean of your tears;
You tirelessly rush from village to village;
From city to city you rush to burnt-down, ruined slums;
You embrace the helpless women
With the love of a kind mother.
Fearless like Sheikh Mujib, the greatest man of Bengal,
The shade of your Pacific heart is stretching out every day
Over the plains and the Lama Hills.
The wave of your affection spreads out
From Fukushima to the drought-hit babies of Somalia, Sudan.
In countless meetings in the UN and world congress
At your luminous valor and grandeur
The struggling masses of Asia, Africa and Latin America
Spring up in quest for equality, peace and freedom.
Adored by people’s hearts, you stand like the Phoenix, an ageless bird;
You emerge again and again, holier in every fire-birth;
You are the daughter of our alluvial soil;
You are the latest edition of our beloved motherland.
Transcription: Anis Mohammad
