Deep in the heart where the waters remain,
Drowned in the rhythm of the monsoon rain.
Ratargul stands with its roots in the deep,
Where the shadows of trees in the emerald sleep.
Through the flooded alleys of Hijol and moss,
Where the sunlight and branches in silence cross.
The little boat glides like a ghost on the lake,
In the ripple-less mirror that the forest will make.
No soil for the feet, just a kingdom of blue,
Where the green of the leaves is a magical hue.
The "Amazon" whispers through the vines and the spray,
Hiding the world of the city away.
It's a labyrinth of water, a sanctuary still,
Carved by the rain and the nature's own will.
The spirit of Sylhet in a watery shroud,
Far from the noise and the rush of the crowd.