It hadn’t found in the works of Vidyapati or Chandidas.
It wasn’t depicted in the epic genre of Madhusudan.
It hadn’t heard in the alliteration of Bihari Lalor the others.
In the poetry of Tagore, I wanted to find this blessing.
To say it, Nazrul had sung his songs of the treason.
I had to become much stronger for saying it by my struggling.
To kick the devils out, we had to lose much blood of our own.
Though we wanted to tell, we couldn’t; they had made our voice stopped.
We’ve removed the hands of the tyrants by pushing and striking.
We’ve made the processions with a thunder tone and they were quaked.
We’ve lighted the lamp of our mother tongue by our brothers’ bleeding.
I did dream to tell how the unheard history of our thousand eras was.
I had flushed like the sun along the way of the Twenty First’s memory.
I did learn that the free-life was true and the captive life was false.
I had continued myself to fight to make this fact into a real story.
To destroy the enemy, our soft souls became as an unrestrained brain.
The soil had become gory by the blood of our brothers and our mothers’ tear.
The days passed in the wars to wars and the nights had lost in pain.
Thus the freedom had come to us by sacrificing our lives year after year.
Because of that, I’ve been able to scribe this history in my poem.
I’ve written, because of that, the lyrics of the best tuned song.
And, I’ve been able to write the best story in the glory of being a released name.
I’ve been able to tell the best stories and the sweet notes of my life along.
The war of the Seventy One is the best war of the thousand eras, I see.
The victory on December the Sixteenth is the best win of our history.
The tune of the song, Joy Bangla, is the best lyrics of all the melodies.
Sheikh Muzibur Rahman is the greatest hero of thousand eras in our glories.
Bangladesh, my land, is also the best story of the thousand eras, I read…
It won’t be possible to write her history in a thousand pages indeed.
Translation: Rakib Uddin Ahmed
