600 years from my book belong to the world. Are they recycling this poem today? 600 years. The world is created and destroyed, but left with some memories. Sometimes these memories make us laugh and sometimes cry. When I entered the pyramid of Egypt, my eyes were mesmerized to see the architect. I saw the queen’s tomb and each touch my dream. The queen who become the king. My unfinished kingdom. When I entered the Shanghai Museum, I felt that smell I knew long ago. The smell of my old furniture, my paintings, the silk dresses, and the jewels. When I was standing in front of the lotus pond in Yu Garden in Shanghai, I felt a deep bondage with that palace. All the memories were reflection in a mirror. Next to the Taj Mahal, the tide of the Jamuna is flowing. And the water is singing my songs. Each stone of the palace expresses the pain for my absence and my incomplete love. The green parrots fly on the top of the Taj and ask me, “Where were you all these days?” In the Royal Palace of Nature, every sound of the musical instruments reminds my memory those golden days. The sounds of the anklets and the music of the piano are looking for my own soul. It is difficult to resist my emotions, my past memories haunting me in the palace of the Bhawal Raja at the Sonargaon. I stared at the painting of the king, the memory of my beloved. The memory of my legacy is still there cherishing those days. At the Museum of Sonargaon, the antique golden pendant of mine is preserving my history. Whenever I sat on the stairs of the old office of Balda Garden, I heard the wind just whispering. The leaves of the trees are singing, “Your love did not die. You are still living with us. We are waiting here for you and for your incomplete love. “A strange feeling of love take me to these places, calls me to century after century. My old soul, my golden memory, those days will remain forever in the history. 600 years belong to the world.