Amidst the water, where the shadows play,
A monolith of concrete, grand and gray.
The Sangshad Bhaban, rising from the lake,
A dream of marble for a nation's sake.
No bricks of red or towers of the old,
But geometric shapes, courageous and bold.
Great circles and triangles cut through the wall,
Where the rays of the sun like a blessing fall.
A floating palace on a mirror of blue,
Reflecting a spirit that is steady and true.
Louis Kahn's vision, a marvel of light,
Standing defiant through the day and the night.
The halls are vast, like a canyon of stone,
Where the voice of the people is clearly known.
A sanctuary carved with a master's hand,
The heart and the soul of our sovereign land.
Through the Crescent Lake where the lotuses grow,
The evening lights give a magical glow.
A symbol of power, of law, and of grace,
The most iconic crown of our capital space.
It stands as a guard, it stands as a vow,
To the future of millions it's pointing right now.
A fortress of peace on the Dhaka soil,
The fruit of our struggle, our hope, and our toil.