Warning

 
Hyenas they are, tearing apart this nation's very heart,
Wolves they are, gnawing bloody the flag's crimson sun apart.


They are locusts, swallowing whole the Mujib coat's proud neck,
Monstrous demons they, chewing to bits Sonar Bangla's song of trek.


They are vicious, they are greedy, they are the wretched crew,
Crushing the weak, sucking up strength, seizing the flag anew.


They slit the throat of seventy-one, with blood they till the land,
On the martyr army's dream-spine they paint ruin with their hand.


They snatch the rice from poor and grieving, fill their own belly's need,
Wrapped in the false cloak of service, they make the nation's head to bleed.


They cut the map's backbone in two with corruption's grinding saw,
Their mouths spill mountains of sweet talk, all for their selfish law.


They strangle my country's throat tight, then settle in foreign shade,
They suck your blood and mine alike, steal hearts in false masquerade.


Forgive me, O my seventy-one's countless lakhs of martyr souls,
Helpless I watch them plunder away freedom-from-hunger's bowls.


O you beasts, you blood-suckers, you pack of crimson kites!
Tell me—will you release or not this flag from your bloody bites!
Or else the people will rise awake...hoi hoi hoi re re!
Then trampled underfoot you'll be, your sins have grown too free!