What a calm afternoon now, tired afternoon,
The golden kite is fluttering its wings and playing.
The red cloud is flying from the east to the west,
The gentle wind speeds up the rhythm.
Rows of crows are roaming the halls,
Lal Mia's shawl garden is doing mass now.
The guest birds are in the air, flying in the sky,
Fear of who will shoot Sangin Tuli.
Shalik calls and chirps in the leaves,
The sea can sink in the evening.
I hear the call to prayer coming from a distant mosque,
The others stopped on the way to the whale.
In the evening they are running the stream of goodness.
The poet Bishwa Bhuban Moy is drawing such a picture.
Colorful sky is revealing brother in any country?
There is no other place except the sky of Bangladesh.
Rows of bucks leave the whole and merge on the horizon,
No address can be deposited in his direction.
ঐ The evening sky seen in Balaka Jayare across,
Where can I find such pictures, looking for the world?
The scenery is bery beautiful