Bangladesh, My Homeland, My World,
My only Real Home;
Oh! How I miss you, whether
Accompanied Or Alone.
The Sun rises every morning, in my Dhaka,
Bringing a new day, bright and clear,
And maybe to some faraway farmer,
Rejuvinating Cheer.
On the way, to home or school,
Cooling breezes crossed my way,
Relief for me, while in fields faraway,
Farmers would smile, seeing the gold crops sway.
The Sun would set in the evening,
Making the sky glow ruby red,
Like the crimson blood, which for freedom
Bangla's brave sons had shed.
Sometimes it would rain all day,
Filling the sky with clouds all dark,
Would give life to the farmer's crops, Filling up
Rivers , making the lonely fisherman smirk.
Other times,after dark, the sky would shine
With the sparkle of the stars & the Moon's light so Divine
All these memories; all these thoughts,
Always shall remind
Me of the Land of Gold,
Which I left behind.
Sleepless nights; Daydreams; All make me see:
Bangladesh the Land.................
Where my heart shall always be.
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