নীল দিগন্তে ওই ফুলের আগুন লাগল
Neel digonte oi phooler agoon laglo
The blue horizon sizzles with buds,
Spring comes alive in fragrant flames
The baffled sky finds its sunbeams trapped
Happily captive, to mother earth,
In gold sensations of mustard meads.
The blue horizon aches with hurt,
Pulses of my painful past,
Frenzied drifts of bygone days,
Of youthful springs, return to me
Seeking to resurface instantly
Embodied in waves on mustard meads.
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