In distant lands where echoes fade,
My heart yearns for the home cascade.
A melody of Bangladesh, so sweet,
In foreign soil, I find incomplete.
The aroma of spices in the air,
A symphony of colors everywhere.
Mango groves and rivers wide,
In memories, they gently bide.
Oh, how I miss the crowded bazaars,
With vibrant hues beneath the stars.
The laughter in the evening air,
The warmth that nothing can compare.
The call to prayer at break of dawn,
A tranquil rhythm that lingers on.
Mosques and temples side by side,
In unity, they peacefully reside.
The rickshaws weaving through the street,
A lively dance, a rhythmic beat.
The joy of festivals, lights aglow,
In every heart, a festive flow.
Oh, Cox's Bazar's endless shore,
With waves that sing forevermore.
The Sundarbans' mysterious embrace,
A sanctuary, a sacred space.
From Srimangal's tea gardens green,
To Chittagong's hills, a sight unseen.
In every corner, memories are stored,
Of a land I cherish, adore.
Yet here I am, across the sea,
Longing for the land that cradled me.
Bangladesh, my heart's abode,
In every heartbeat, you are stowed.
