The country is my mother Bangladesh

 

Green grass dance,
At Bakul Shimul Mela,
Spring-colored cuckoos still call,
In Bengali,
This is Bangladesh-mine.

There is Nazrul, there is Jibananda,
There is Robbie even today,
In the house and in the touch of the ground.
My mother's taste, my language,
My outburst, my cry for deliverance,
He is only in Bengali,
Only in Bangladesh.

We have seen in the tone of blood,
There is rebellion in the call of the lost son of the mother,
We have brought freedom to the house of the oppressor,
We are the tomorrow of that Mujib-independence,
We are Bengali, this is mine in Bangladesh.

Touch the affection of my country-my mother,
The language of daily liberation,
Assurance of freedom of oppressed people.