Memories of liking can not be forgotten,
so I visit your compound again and again,
The curved moon still rises in the sky,
the purple flower blooms in my garden;
and the bird sings 'piya, piya' on riyal branches.
The light that plays on its flute at radiant dawn,
now overflows my heart with endless joy.
O my sweet darling,
desert's desire still lingers in my heart.
and the body- Yamuna swells
in utmost affection.
[Original: Bhalo lagar smriti; Translation: Mohammad Nurul Huda]
Kazi Nazrul Islam
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memories-of-liking/