The Day Of Khandab-Dahan

[O bird, my lonely bird]

EVEN at the moment of burning, let the song remain
non-ending on the beaks of birds; let the pride of
Spreading wings, pious and eternal.
Let the day of Khandab-dahan return again and again,
In Bangla, like ancient scriptures
The beauty of burning down, the bird, O my beloved!

Whose ensign flies on the top of the trees?
Pale barks and skin of whose heart
Turns crimson amber while burning
Whose drooped skeleton of love reflects
On the eternal sky, dead or wounded?
Let that be, let that be ever, all those query
Only, O bird, in your beak, crimson pain
Smear up, let time of parting stare at it!