Translated from Bangla by Md. Ziaul Haque.Freedom, you’reThe classic verses of Tagore, timeless lyrics.Freedom, you’reKazi Nazrul a great man with thick mane,Freedom, you’reThe dazzling congregation at the Shahid MinarFreedom, you’reThe procession of slogans and coloursFreedom, you’reThe smile on the farmer’s face in the land.Freedom, you’reThe amusing swim of the pastoral girl in the pond during mid-day.Freedom, you’reThe wiry muscles on an expert labourer’s sun-tanned arms.Freedom, you’reThe twinkle in a freedom fighter’s eyes at the murky and isolated borders.Freedom, you’reThe immaculate speech of a laudable learner beneath the silhouette of a banyan tree.Freedom, you’reThe fiery conversation at the tea-shops and public gatherings.Freedom, you’reThe thriving clout of the northwester at the horizon.Freedom, you’reThe heart of the Meghna during rainFreedom, you’reThe furry contact of the father’s prayer mat.Freedom, you’reThe waves of the mother’s sari long-drawn-out in the patio.Freedom, you’reThe tinge of henna on the sister’s malleable hand.Freedom, you’reA dazzling placard as the stars at the pal’s hand.Freedom, you’reThe homemaker’s thick black locks turning untamed in the wind.Freedom, you’reThe vibrant attire on a juvenile lad,The playing of the rays on a lass’ sinuous cheeks.Freedom, you’reThe abode amid a garden, the song at the cuckoo’s throat,The peeping leaves of an antiquated banyan tree,My notebook of poetry, for penning verses as I feel like.