Time goes on like waves
Life is but a Bk\lue-eyed river
Ancient festivity is in the crop fields
Speachless, emotionless under crushing of machines
Smell of gunpowder mingles with the wind of evening-prayer
In my sences I feel rain-drops
Un-wavering mind now dwindle into doubt
Tomorrow’s history is very crude
Tomorrow’s history is blood-strewn.
Translated by Siddique Mahmudur Rahman