People use wires to confine the current, but Taoist priests keep the "sound" in "silence"! Who knows that the Taoist priest wrapped the singing, the hope in his heart, the cheers of the sober soul and the magical voice in paper! Who knows that Taoist priests imprisoned "the past" in "today"! Who knows that Taoist priests built a magnificent bridge on the unfathomable sea of years with only one book!
Entering the library, we stood at the intersection of thousands of roads. Some roads lead to the boundless ocean, some roads lead to endless mountains, and some roads extend deep into the heart. No matter which direction you run, you won't encounter obstacles. In this small place, people's self-liberation is under house arrest.
Just like a tsunami can be heard in a conch, what kind of heartbeat is heard in the library? Here, the living and the dead share a room; Here, defense and rebuttal are inseparable, just like twin brothers; Here, doubt and conviction, exploration and discovery, the body is next to the body; Here, long-lived people and short-lived people live patiently and peacefully, and no one discriminates against anyone.
People's voices reach the library across rivers, mountains and oceans. This voice is coming from the edge of billions of years! Come on, the birthday song of light is playing here.
The great man who first discovered heaven said to the people gathered around him, "You are all sons of heaven, and you live in the fairyland of Yuen Long." The great man's loud voice turned into various words, drifting for thousands of years, echoing in the library.
Don't we have anything to express on the Lantern Festival? Can't we send a good news to human society? In the chorus of the world, only Bangladesh remains silent?
The sea under our feet has nothing to say to us. Our Ganges never brought Galasha's fairy songs from the Himalayas? There is no boundless blue sky above us? The glorious words of infinite years written by the stars in the sky have been erased?
In the past, now, at home and abroad, many letters from various nationalities are sent to us every day. You can only reply by publishing articles in two or three newspapers with poor English? Other countries carve their names on the background of infinite time and space, and Bangladesh's name should only be written on the copy of the application? The human soul is struggling in an abominable fate, and the horns blown around the world call for soldiers; But we always sue and appeal for the gourd hanging on the bamboo frame in the garden?
After years of silence, life in Bangladesh has been enriched. Let it tell its ambitions in its own language, and with the voice of Bangladeshi, the singing of the world will be better!