Bloody August Poem by Sadman Nehal

The month of Srabon;
the trees sway by gusty wind,
and raindrops come upon,
and rain blooms the lily and lotus.

August heard your cries;
and nature gazed at your eyes,
with wishes and love,
saying, 'What a lovely dove! '

The rain weeps over our blood;
that runs through our vessels,
passed over successive generations,
and you are the pride of your ancestors.

Oh, the month of monsoon,
and the cottons in the sky,
Why are you crying?
I have seen bloodshed on the roads.