Poetry

The noon sun has fallen in the lap of the path

The clouds of Shravan came running in groups

Bored sky-floor

Robi of the world, Indian poet,

Picture of the heart of Shyam Bangla

You say you're leaving.

Did you not hear the cry of Mother Earth?

So what if the disease does not match the deception of the eyes?

Today, there is pain in the heart of Bengal ';

The river Sagar is weeping, O poet, your lagi '.

Then in the chemical language there was always that Veda-Bati

Your writing captured the great Saraswati,

You were in the seat of meditation that Shiva-sundar,

She is so beautiful in your heart,

With the joyous then the ever-spoken words,

None of them understand the pain of these deprived people?

How they took away the gift of grace,

The lamp of hope in Bengal that you were is extinguished.

I am proud of you, I thought of catching you;

I forgot Clive's poverty, hunger, hunger.

You are like the sun constantly burning over your head,

I couldn't think of your pride - we are unlucky.

So much love that you are in India and Bengal,

Leaving them in the dark with no pride,

Alas.

Ball- Put the foot on the head of the arrogant and

Who will keep the arrogance of this weak?

Her, Aranya-Kundal Elaiya Bangla that cries,

Krishna: The moon has hidden its face in the region of Tithi today.

Robi is crying in the sky behind the Shravan cloud,

Men and women cried from house to house, "Come back, our poet."

India: Fate is burning in the crematorium, not the body, alas.

Today, the vermilion of Lakshisri in Bengal is erased.

Today Saraswati is the poetic melody of the East

Your crematorium - the flame of Chad burned in the flame.

You were so close, no one understood before you understood;

Millions of tear-soaked bodies have been looted on the way today.

The juice-man who came to play in this world,

Going there, you will not remember the mode in secret?

You were dearest to the melody of your words,

Bangabhumi loved Bengal more than Sri.

Assure, O most beloved poet, to our souls,

Will come back with a new look and pull the fashion again.

After getting so much juice, he became dull and hungry

Why did you cry, why did you cry, life is full of love.

I have heard that when the sun goes out, it is the end of the solar system;

The sun of Bengal went out today, and no one else.

No one will understand what is lost except Bengali,

There will not be so much wailing in this world without Bengal.

When the sun of hope is gone, it leaves you in despair and darkness,

The cheetah of your crematorium is always burning in the heart of Bengal.

Violence has spread across the land of India in this Bengal.

How did Robi of the sky come to the slum of Bengal.

Such a great, such a great world-conquering super-human

There is so much celebration in the courtyard of Bengali religion

Mora will get in the dream? So helpless today

Men and women of Bengal, poets and gurus do not find peace.

We thought of you as a blessing from God,

He is the ashes that do not die the fatigue of death.

Take a kiss on the way out, then to Sricharan,

I think the unfortunate people who live in this nation.