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Eternal Faces at Madison Square

Tarik Sujat
Bangladesh, Bangladesh...
Who sing in such an intimate melody!
As if an affectionate mother in unknown fear, were calling her offspring by dearest names. Sad notations spring from the eternal bond Between George Harrison and Ravi Shankar.
When Bob Dylan plays the guitar
Solitary cuckoos- confined in the vicinity-Weep listening to the song of Bangla Dhun. Like roaring waves of the Padma, Joy Bangla- the victory slogan-Is resounded in every battle field in the world.
When Allarakha plays the tabla. When Ali Akbar Khan and Kamala Chakravarty Produce music with their sad fingers, Refugee camps at Bangaon find a new voice. Wake up in the music of newer hope.
Eric Clapton, Billy Preston, Leon Russell, Ringo Starr... They all sing together for Bangladesh.
Madison Square, Madison Square-Countless faces in the audience there. Skyscrapers are dressed in vivid lights, Freedom-loving young students, Stock-brokers from Wall Street, Salesmen from Masi, laborers from workshops, Poets-writers-painters-intellectuals All gather there.
Lonely benches in the park Remain no more lonely. Audience crowds under lamp posts, As melted lava erupts from volcanoes, Countless cars keep on coming With streams of light.
All faces of refugees, Hippi, and vagabonds Become one and inseparable, Bangladesh, Bangladesh...
They sing together.
Manhattan speaks in a different voice, Bursts out in agitation. And chants ‘Bangladesh, Bangladesh...’ O, my Bangladesh, Through the proclamation of your independence, This lyric of eternal flame
is composed for your freedom from subjugation, A celebration of life on the runway of living.
Madison Square Garden is the comrade of our emergence; Everywhere there were posters
Of the depressing face of a hunger-stricken baby Wailing with an empty plate.
Sunday- another golden day in our history-Represents solidarity of souls, This day- broiled- has now mingled In our fiery month of March, In our triumphant month of December as well. The hours from two thirty at noon to eight at night are still bright being pierced by the hands of time.
Madison Square, you are my Race Course Ground, You are my Paltan Ground too, Faces there are still shining, Still stands there a battle-field That marks our struggle for freedom.
Is1 August, 1971...
Through your concert
My country, Bangladesh emerges all over the world.
Translation: Anis Mohammad