Mon-doria
Mon-doria,
my heart’s river,
overflowing
with joy and song,
you skip softly,
sweetly, through light
and shadow in
the Sunderban.
Your salaams touch
towns and hamlets
on your endless
travels. You call
us, ceaselessly
murmuring. Moss
and a thousand
weeds turn the swift
whirlpool of dreams,
desires and hopes.
Your waters flow
in faith, blowing
like a sari
in the wind, strong
and calm to reach
your noble end:
to make deserts
bloom – paradise
here on earth now.
Mon-doria,
my heart’s river,
overflowing
with joy and song.
About this poem
This poem, representing Bangladesh, is part of The Written World – our collaboration with BBC radio to broadcast a poem from every single nation competing in London 2012.
