Bhuli kamone aajo je mone bedhona shone rohilo aaka aajo shojoni dhino rojoni shedine ghoni shokoli phaka, bhuli kaemone, ajo mon korle churi morme sheshe anle thuri, aetho shothotha aetho je betha thobu jano thaar modhu thae makha chakori dekhle chaandhe dhur theke oi ajo kaandhe, aajo badhole jhulono jhule kaemoni jole jole bol aka bokuler tholai porul pagla meghe kurai je phul chole nagori kaache gagori, chorono bhari shomosho makha bhule kamone. Dale thor korle aghath nishle kobi phul e shajath baetha mukule molina jhule mone ki dhule phulo poth aka bhule kamone……… How do I forget the sufferings of my heart? The splendor gives illumination to those days that were empty. First the heart steals and then makes death its jewel. In such truth lies despair even if soaked in honey. From afar witness the sight of a weeping moon. The stormy seasons rise and fall as if waves; Poet Kazi Nazrul Islam places events into words. Under the bakul tree, in the guise of a mad girl, the bird parul gathers flowers. Can you gauge the pace of the city dweller facing unchartered waters? With heavy feet you have ventured into the world for salvation. Poet, when branches hurt, take instead strewn flowers. The buds tucked in heads embody pain that hearts forgives as if they were drawn by flowers. How can we forget?