Pashaner bhangale ghum

Who art thou to break the sleep of stone with thy golden touch?
From the melted snow of tunes flows the stream of strains by now.

The listless indifferent mind now pines for the embrace of arms.
The tears of many a life are eager to fall at thy feel.

It is the touch of thy rhythmic feet that opened the buds of my song.
It is thy tress that my bud of songs seek to die.
My sky dazzles at the gaze of those gazelle-like eyes of thine.

From "Nazrul Islam" by Mizanur Rahman
Tarun Pakistan Publishers, Dacca, 1966