Escritas

Poems List

Victoress

Victoress


O my queen
Today at last I accept defeat
My battle-flag lies at your feet
My immortal sword of victory
Is tired now and heavy.
I cosign to you the weight of it now,
I make my surrender a wreath round your brow.
O goddess of my life,
When you look at me with tears in your eyes,
Great world-conquering waves seem to roll and rise.
Today in my rebel's chariot of blood, you are the rider;
Your fluttering sari has become Heaven's border;
All my arrows are yours, your garland their quiver
Only by floating in your tears can I now be a conquerer.


[Translation: William Radice]
👁️ 523

Ting-A-Ling, Ting-A-Ling, Ting-A-Ling,

Ting-A-Ling, Ting-A-Ling, Ting-A-Ling,

Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling,
Who goes there stepping over the date leaves
Raising a melodious jingling?
Her scarf flutters in the dancing wind,
Her steps scatter flowers on the rocky road.
As she trips gaily on
Her arched eyebrows sparkle like a sword,
And her feet kick tiny stones
Scattering them like a jewelled necklace.


She is pretty as the peach blossoms,
And even the young Eid-moon is in love with her.
It pines for her rosy cheeks.
She is a, mirage and a vision rare
Many a prince riding an Arab mare
Sought her in vain in Sahara's desert sands.
For her many a young traveller
Lost their lives in strange, far-off lands.
And, lured by her haunting charm,
Died, many a forest deer.


[Original: Rum jhum jhum jhum; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]
👁️ 479

Those Iron Gates of Prison

Those Iron Gates of Prison

Destroy those iron gates of prison,
demolisth the blood-stained stony altars
of chain worshipping!
O youthful Shiva,
blow your horn of universal cataclysm!
Let the flag of destruction
rise amidst the rubble of prison walls
of the East! !
Play the music of the festival of Shiva!
Who's the master? Who's the king?
Who is it
that punishes the truth of freedom?
Ha! Ha! Ha! It's a laugh-
God is to be hanged?
Rumor-mongerwho
teaches this pitiful 'trugh'?
O you forgetful Madman shake
- shake the prisons
with your forceful cataclysmic pulls!
Send your Haidari call,
play your war-drumscall
Death
towards Life!
There, the Baishakhi storm is dancingare
you just going to sit through your days?
Let's see
you shake up the foundation
of that terrible prison.
Kick - break the locks!
All those prisonsset
them on fire,
burn them down, uproot them forever!


Translation: Sajed Kamal
👁️ 461

The Worshipper

The Worshipper

After all, at this late hour,
Beloved!

Like a whirlwind blind with dust
Day and Night
When I

Dance about in a blood-red Death-game
At long last, at this eleventh hour
It is revealed to me that! know thee through

all Eternity.
Worshipper!

Thy voice, thy tune shaming the dove,
Thy eye, thy face,
Thy eye-brow, forehead, cheek,

Thy beauty that knows no equal,

Thy wanton ear-ring swinging to and fro
in dance surpassing a swan
I know, I know all!
Hence, after all, I

Standing on the one, weary, hopeless

and dreary beach of life
From the depths of my fainting heart
Cry for thee and thee alone,

Beloved!

Calling by the sweetest name which is constantly
on my lips as a sacred name on the rosary.
I weep with it -

In my broken voice do I cry, I know thee,
I do, do, do know,
Thou art not one with laurels of victory - nor
art thou a beggar-maid,
Thou art virgin nymph, daughter of an

eremite, thou art my eternal worshipper!
Through ages, thou hast loved this hard-hearted one,
Burning thy own self, thou hast kindled light

in my breast,
Many a time thou hast made me a debtor
to thy worship.
I know thee, Beloved, I do, do, do know through
Eternity.

I oft recognize thee in the sun-set
of life, at the hour of death,
Then after recognition

Thou dost go elsewhere.
Leaving me on the lone, deserted

Farewell-raft.
Sitting at the end of the day, bathed in tears,
I recall her far-off, distant memory
I remember the sad, silent welcome night

of mine that came at the close of spring
When my eyes feasted upon thine and were blessed,

Till then a simple, happy boy - my


youth did not put forth blossoms,
Like approaching, aching, eager Dawn
Half-asleep, half-awake was my boyhood,
My rosy nights went blooming

Free of all barriers, ,
Like a whirlwind spontaneously moving
Or the speed of fiery lyrics, or

laughter that knows no end

A wandering traveller from far afar,
I took thee
And along with thee

Came tearful eyes and pangs of homeless forlorn

heart-
Thou didst come at night, at peep of Dawn,
I sang 'Awake, Beloved, Awake! '
Thou didst rise from sleep, thou didst come to me,
And looking at my face didst smile a

melancholy smile -
At thy smile I wept - whose tame bird distressed
art thou, now deprived of thy forest
home?

O the message of thine eyes! methought
That voice, that tune of mine
Laden with sadness of separation,
And reverberating in the forest,
Which invites the south wind, causes

the flower to blossom and charms the wild doe,
Thou hast known all of myself since the dawn of
creation!

Then, that midnight I did sing
plaintive notes choked with tears of that
unhonoured send-off and wounded feelings.

I did not know whom by the incantation of a song
I wanted then to imprison in my
ever-desolate forlorn heart
Only this I do know that the shade of
thy love-enkindled eyes untimely roused from sleep

Fell upon my eyes.
I saw, too, in the expression of those eyes,
A flood of light mixed with surprise and delight,
A flow of fascination born of profound pain,
With silent sympathy was trembling the love-lorn heart

In the likeness of the dark night
To my thirsty eyes was expectantly welcome,
Worshipper! that sweet, tender light

kindled in the lamp of thy eyes!
Then, at the close of singing .
With a smile I think I called thee near, by the

name
Suddenly didst thon storm with a pent up
feeling of self-respect offended
(Who knoweth why) .


Like a canoe trembled thy serene eyes
Secured with eye brows,
The swelling water through the mouth


of the fount of agony
Fell in torrents!


Such flood of tears gushing out of thy
depths on a little caress
Where didst thou get, O Neglected!
my wandering Beloved?
Tell me, O tell!
On this broken bosom,

Pillow thy bright face bathed in tears
With a thrill of bashful joy
And tell me, a tell!

Why seeing me art thou overwhelmed with
an undefined feeling?
Why at my call such abundance of tears

overflows thy eyes?
An unknown vagrant wayfarer am I,
Seeing me why tears start to thy

virgin eyes serene?
Others laugh at me;
A happy, secure nest is burnt at .
the very touch of my accursed hot breath,
Taking it to be a jewel some people
wear it as a garland,
But when it turns to be a venomous serpent

And bites them in the breast,
Forthwith they trample it under foot!
With one who is disliked, hated and

disregarded by the world,
Forlorn Beloved! Why dost thou
play this sad game
For one why this secret sensibility?

On what right
The mere calling by name doth cause pain to thee?
Art thou loved by nobody? Art thou

tenderly taken by nobody? Art thou
tenderly taken by none?
From birth art thou neglected as

a Beggar maid? And for that
Such abundant flow of tears and
Such offended spirit exciting compassion?

No, not even that
In a forlorn voice while resting on the breast
Who doth in forlorn sensitiveness Say

'No, not even that'!
I saw hundreds come to this house,
Many of their own accord take thee on their breast,
Still yet in thy eyes and face is writ

large a deep discontent and a profound


Pining for love!
Why at my sight doth so much nectar

of love overflow thy breast?
O Mystry! My Queen!
Nobody doth know
Thou knowest not
Nor do I know.


Love alone knoweth, heart alone doth feel
From whence cometh such poignancy of
Spontaneous attraction of heart to heart.
Even without understanding it, I understood
That day, O unknown! that thou

art eternally know to me, thou my

neglected Sita in every successive birth!
Thou hermit's daughter deserting thy forest home,
Eternal virginity; thy tray of offerings to Gods
I broke in every age, thy garland I tore
In mere sport; ever-silent, ever languishing

under a curse, O heavenly damsel!
In silence didst thou suffer
O thou Simple! Simply hast thou
Known thou art my-Queen of

Victory, myself thy Poet.
Then, towards the end of night

Sitting by thy side
I heard thy melodious song,
Half-interrupted by bashfulness,

tremblingly pathetic
Oft the voice reminded me
Of some dim, half-remembered,

half-forgotten, long-lost thing,
Singing in choked voice 'O thou'!
When krishna went to Mathura and forgot

his beloved Radhika,
Methink, she wept out her forlorn

heart singing such sweetest saddest song.
With a breast afflicted by neglect,
it was much like Lalita's lamentation

in secret hour!
Perhaps in lonely forest, alone, wandering,
Damayanti sang in such tired voice
Calling her husband woo was left behind!
Perhaps sad sakuntala remembering her husband
Wept with the forest creepers singing

in such tune, in secret leafy nook!
Perhaps on the peak of the Hem-giri mountain
The long-lost Sati in the person of Uma
Addressed Bholanath in such ever known voice!
Wept she, ever-faithful, beloved of her

husband, to get again her eternal lover!
I see and understand everything,
My youth did not awake, so thy fair face


made no deep impress on my inward eye;
Yet in thy familiar voice my own
I left and went afar in some unremembered

moment along a nameless village path
Scarcely a day or two passed when

on the bank of the same holy Gomati
My heart ached for the first time and a
Strange, fragrant pain I felt in

the lotus of my navel region.
I wandered to-and fro in search of
the source of this pain-laden smell of wine
At the mere touch of my hot, heavy

sighs, trembled the sky, air and earth,
Bewailed leaves and creepers,
Flowers and birds and rivers,.
Bewailed clouds and winds and all,
And bewailed in the breast in fierce

pleasure the insatiate divinity awakened

by youth's tyranny: .
Wretched as I was, I knew not whom I wanted,
So I cried hoarse, 'Where should .

I go, where may I find my Beloved? '
My heart feels a burning passion,
my mind runs riot,
Methink, it is the sad lamentation
of a lover under the load of eternal youth!
Visions float in quick success on

before the eyes of many a color,
red, blue, pink
From whose breast

To my heart of hearts
Doth come and why this painful ecstasy
redolent of musk?

My mind like the musk deer runs a-field.
the air trembles with fear engendered by
my frantic wailings! .
Like the musk of deer

My mind blind with scent roams in
Search of the odour of my own navel!
Mine own love

By drinking itself wants to appease
its own thirst!

My youth under an eternal thirst for
the whole world of love
After emptying an ocean like a drop

longs for another!
Good Heaven! What thirst eternal,

illimitable is this!
Where is contentment? O where?
Where is the Eternal Ocean of Love that

can appease my thirst?
More self-willed, tyrannical, and irresistible than I


Where might I find her
In absence of whom I know no peace
in this wide world!
Thinking like this I go abroad, I only

walk my way,
And meet many a girl on the path,
After them, alas! runs with blind impetuosity
My mind hungering for Love,
If one of them looks back, my
offended sentiment brings a flood

of tears to my eyes!
They laugh at my predicament, .
Some one ignores me, some one

approaches with an offer of favour!
It doth aggravate my grief,
With the deep naked agony of a wretched one,
Like the loud roar of the ocean of

universal cataclysm
Under pain and wounded self-respect
. doth swell in fierce volume
The flame of my heart agitated with distress!
A street girl doth offer favour!
Under my foot I smash her vanity .

with her presumptuous offer!
In tears she goes back, afraid of coming near;
Like Anath Pindada, disciple of Buddha,
My mendicant heart
Hegs from door to door no common alms
For my love-Buddha,
Give me alms, O citizens!
I beg for Buddha, see my master

goes back hungry from the door!
Many came, many went away, .
Some in fright, some in surprise,
Some with a broken heart,
Some bathed in tears
Thus many a nymph came and went,
I beseech complete surrender,
But it is not understood by the happy damsels

of the city
They carne with a smile,
Then at the end of the smile

In tears they go back

To the shady nook of their living home
They say, 'O way-farer! Tell us, O tell
What Treasure doth thy heart hanker after? .
Why is this pathos in thy voice, for whom

is there so much hunger in 'thy breast? '
No body understands what I want
Some 'rings mind and heart, some brings

Youth and wealth,
While a third offers beauty and body.


A proud princess maddened by her riches

Wants to imprison me in the trap of her
beauty and youth...
All in vain! Loaded with despondency ,
my heart goes abroad


As a vagrant warbler
Singing 'where is my love-loran Beloved
my worshipper, Oh, where? '

She who will say, 'I have turned
an anchorite for the sake of love,
O thou my Lord! '

Forlorn am I and not

thy pride and glory
In vain I roam in the wilderness
My thirst rages fiercely
In such moments my thirst-stricken heart
Loses itself for a moment
At a distant, unknown beckoning with the hand
As if she were weeping aloud-,
Saying 'My Love, I am thy heart's wandering maid,

I know thee
Thou, too, knowest me!
I knew not, it was a she-devil,
It was but an illusion,
No water, but a snare, it was a
deceptive image of a lake in the desert! '
'I am at thy mercy', so saying I

called at her door,
Alas, where was she? Verily it was a witch
Alluring me to my doom!
It was a cruel Fowler's net,
It was a device to win the grace

. of a Beggar's bowel,
No, the trap did defeat itself, .
Entangled in her own snare was

finished the witch
To thy door came I with my heart
bleeding from thorns,
Knew not, even then, thou didst feel

a keen sympathy for my afflictions.
Yet from time to time it struck me
that thy sweet, balmy touch could efface

All my bums and pangs,
That to my heart spoke thy heart ever in tears

O way-farer! Give me those thorns;
Where do they prick thee,
Tell mc, pray!

Thou art a silent eremite, keeping in

thy lone privacy,
Hence thy speechless message
I seldom minded, and little understood


that and thy little reserved bosom
There was so much room for love and hope.
Meanwhile I knew not from where

came my mother floating as it were
like a free stream,
In that stormy night.


She took me in her lap, printed a

thousand kisses on my eyes bathed in tears.
The thoroughfare vanished
The chariot disappeared
Drowned was all sorrow and pain,


A mother's love illumined my dilapidate
temple like the festival of Dewali!
My past history like the previous birth
I seemed to forget on getting back

my lost Mother!
A homeless one was restored to his

home, in tranquil happiness and felicity.
After many an age as it were, I slept a
deep sleep pillowed on my Mother's breast.
There was an end of vagrant minstrelsy,
Disappeared in a piteous
lone my companion the tempestuous wind.

0 0 0

Again, again was I benighted
Perhaps at the door of some all-conquering

nymph, Arjun's chariot came to a stand-still.
I forgot the object of my peregrination,
I forgot. my heart had been eternally wandering
and longing for my Beloved, Beloved and Beloved

alone.
I forgot every bit of pain and grief,
The flood of new felicity melted my heart,
And over-flowed my tearless eyes.
It seemed as it were in some lotus of

beauty were imprisoned my eyes,
Its fragrance enraptured my bosom,
And a thrill danced through
some sweetest, saddest sensation.
Life regained and forfeited again
The greedy bird pierced by an arrow
Besmeared with blood the altar of my temple
It could not wake up the stone-image,
Being thus disgraced, I leapt up like a

forest conflagration.
My poignant, blood-red griefs raised their heads,
With a thundering voice I rushed forth

on the blood-horse of Rebellion,
Against the Original Cause of my
Sorrow the Creator - across the clouds of the sky


Holding aloft the meteor flag of Destruction,
Kindling the sacrificial fire of animosity

and creating terror in a barren dreary desert!
What illusion is this! At intervals
Methought I heard a distant melody

of thy flute singing my name, Dear!
Peering into that far-off privacy
My eyes red with enmity became
Softened with tears of silent Sympathy.
Remembering that melody, remembering that call

discarded all my grief
I threw my grief into oblivion,
I do realize, thou art real-thou dost exist,
Neglected by me, thou dost still desire me,

heart and soul,
Alone, wood-nymph,
Thou art wreathing a garland for me

All by thyself,
In bashful privacy.
Thou art my wandering maid, my Queen,
Whom I wood in all my previous births!
The ocean of fire in me becomes a flower

in bloom and says with a smile
'I know, I know'.
Let life return to my dead soul.
From a-far am I summoned by her,
Without whom I know no peace and joy
in the wide world.

But hearken!
Who wails and laments like that?
Some body must have cried from behind
'Friend, thou art behind time' Poor fellow,

it is too late!
I didn't listen, I didn't mind obstruction,
To me alone came floating as it were
across the barriers of the previous
Birth the sad wailings of a forsaken Lalita.
I came running to thee

Breathlessly,
Martyrdom, the chariot of fire, all went
a-begging, the blood-red flag cried'

in the wilderness,
I indulged in a world of luxury and felicity
in secretly worshipping thee in my bosom.
To narrate the sequel I lack language today,
Today I have no heart, no tears, no strength,

no hope.
What I say today is no song, it is but
a blood-red message of a bleeding
heart embalmed in tears.

Yet keep this little bit in mind, Dear,


that from door to door
Baffled I returned
And came to thee for thyself as the Summumbonum.
of my life,
In return for the whole world of my hope and
love and affection.
I worshipped thee, O my unkind Beloved.
thou worshipper!
Methought thou wouldst smilingly take

charge of one who was too wild for the world.
Thou wouldst tame the rebel of the universe
Quite easily by dint of love alone.
Methought for the glory of conquering the
unruly and unconquerable
the heart would be illumined with an

uncommon lustre, and then one day
Thou wouldst infuse celestial fire

into my arms
And become the embodied victory of this Rebel.
I harboured a hope, I had power, too,

to tear asunder the universe
And place the same under thy rosy feet
as a culled red lotus for an offering
But alas! Where art that 'thou'? Where
is that heart?
Where's that inalienable bond of attachment

between two hearts?
This 'thou' of today art not that 'thou' to be sure;
Today I find thou too art deceitful,
Thou too clammiest to be victorious by

means of falsehood!
Thou dost want to give me something,

retaining the remainder for another,
Unfortunate woman! I laugh out my soul!
Whom dost thou want to deceive?
In my bosom is ever awake the true Divinity,
His eyes are penetrating, they can see

into the heart of things,
And most minutely search its inmost recesses.
Infidelity fouls thy offering today, Dear,
Today thou dost try to deceive him
Whom one day didst thou give all thy heart and soul.
Thus I ponder, whose fault it was
That in thy spotless heart
Was kindled this death-provoking light
Yet I wonder is it true?

Thou too, a deceiving self?
If it were so, then O witch!
Let it be true, O wicked one!
Let full light show thy false world in bold relief.
Myself, thyself, the sun, moon, stars,

Let all be false,


Then, then, O alluring Phantom,
Give to thy contrived world a false gleam
As I look at thy face today,
Shame strikes me like a thunderbolt
As I remember how didst thou disregard

and neglect me, I do remember my shameless ness, too
Today I die before my death,
I feel, I must cry aloud, 'Open thy womb, Mother

Earth!

And take into darkness thy neglected.
and dust-covered son from the light
of the day that throws his shame into

prominence
Yet many a time I came with hope
But alas! whenever I look at that face
Ah me! where's that worshipping damsel,

Where's that forlorn anchorite?

The same accustomed disregard I see,
And the same face devoid of expression.
There's no love lost, but a game

. to ride rough-shod over a heart
My bosom bursts under the load of disgrace!
Alas! What cruel game is this, between hearts!
These girls tread a bleeding rosy breast
Under their feet which seem dyed with lace.
They claim to be goddesses, they are greedy

and want to usurp the worship of all!
For them is not the single-minded devotion
of a lover, nor the complete surrender
of a worshipper
Hence, in the name of true devotion,
their timid heart is so awfully frightened,
Frailty, thy name is Woman! She does
Not like to nestle round one bosom.
She is a goddess, she is greedy, the
more she is worshipped, the more she
wants worshippers.
Her voracious mind

Is not gratified with one, one is
not sufficient for her,
She seeks many

My creator-Lord received from me not such
worship as was offered to her, yet she
deceived me!
I do realize, in the end, that there comes
encircling darkness as deep as death
as my companion,
So my forlorn heart out of the agony
of bitter pleasure thunders out:
Why then, O my mind, for whom shouldst
thou go lamenting abroad?


Blaze forth now, burning like the
terrible eyes of the god of Destruction,

Clap thy hands striking terror! Fan
the bloody flames of the eternal fire
of thy Rebellion!

Let the fiery Chariot beat thy
all-destroying trumpet!
Hurl thy battle-axe and trident!
Storm this citadel of Falsehood!
Bring poison made of blood and .
nectar, seize death by the throat!
Let this false world under thy accursed
heavy agonizing wheel be crushed to powder.

In my throat there's today so much venom;
so much wrath
Yet, Nymph!
At intervals I recall

I did not love thee
Till I saw thy light red with passion
and embosomed in thy breast,
Thou hadst all the time
Sought my love and played the
Begga-maid at my door,

Till then a small neglect resulting in thy
outraged feelings of rebellion would
have caused a flood of tears to
arise in thine eyes, and agonized

thy soft and sweet heart.
For a small bit of affection, for a tiny caress
Thou didst many a night and many

a day keep by my side on sleepless pillow
I did not vouchsafe to look at thee.
Is this, then, by way of revenge? .
After conquering me by means of falsehood.
Thou hast heaped disgrace and deceit

upon my head and stopped my breath.
Today I wail from the lap of death
O Heartless! What false cruel game

is this with regard to a heart?
After a world of love, how canst
thou hurl so much disregard,

O women?
Such a blow is man's job,
I knew, we, men, alone could inflict such injuries
Methought, the gift of a spotless fair Nymph
Finds itself in a single delicious
Moment irrevocably in the bosom of her lover,
And thus she loses her separate entity.

for all Eternity,

It is a vain belief!
Zephyr only makes the flower blossom,
The honey-making bee comes and deflowers it


The former is a type of chivalry;
Love and not the body of the beloved
. is all-in-all to him!

The latter goes by Aromatic and knows
how to ravish the blooming tender
heart of the flower

Myself, the sound Wind a traveler
the end of at spring I depart
For that deathless undiscovered country'
.. of Eternal Night!
On this even of departure my eyes are

filled with tears of joy.
As I feel how happy am I today.
Thou hadst loved me before I loved thee
The soft crimson light of thy maiden heart
From kissed my breast and Jace.
From recollections today of that ardent

happiness a deluge of sensations sweet
inundates the broken heart of this hungry one!
Remembering that love and felicity of

those golden days
I feel my life is full - I sink in the

grave contented and blessed
Unsolicited, thou alone didst love me.
In happy remembrance of that piece of joy,
I with my death-black lips

print now a thousand full kisses upon thy
dear name!

Remembering me,
If one night, Dear,
While in sleep pillowed upon one's breast
Thou dost feel a pain in thy bosom without cause,
Take it that dear and gone the impediment!
None else shall come back
In wild ecstasy to kiss thy lotus-feet
Dead is he- the self-willed, discontented


ever-selfish, greedy
But he is immortal - thy love hath

bestowed immortality upon the poet
Who like the deathless Nilkantha hath
Swallowed the ocean of pain.

[Translation: Abdul Hakim] .
👁️ 573

The War Drum

The War Drum

O come, come along!
There sounds the war-drum
from beyond the vast deep.


O come, come along!
Islam is about to die.
The devils have taken over,
they brag and rejoice,
they crush under their feet
the skulls of martyrs.


O come, come along! Die if you must,
but let not your manhood be disgraced!
Grab the crest of the gale
in the iron fist of a Muslim,
sound the horn and unfurl the flag.
The heroes are eager to fight,
listen not to the soft words of the cowards!
Your honour and life are at stake today!


O come, come along!
There sounds the war-drum
from beyond the vast deep.


O come, come along!
There you can hear the ringing of the weapons!
Alas, how can one stay away
and tolerate this disgrace?
O come, come along!


Your brothers look at you
with pensive eyes.
Oh, how ashamed it makes me feel!
Won't the sword flash out yet
in your hands?


Won't the flood in your veins
dance with joy
as you hear the war-drums beat?
O come, come along!


We are vigorous and full of life,
In our hands alone does the sword
find a fitting place!
Ignoble are they who fall in a faint
and kiss the ground with chains
around their neck. How dare a cur kick at a lion?
Will an elephant be moulded by a jackal?
There you can hear the ringing of the weapons
O come, come along!


There sound the war-drums, t



here sound the battle-cries!
There the lion-hearted heroes roar!
O come, come along!
Give up all sadness of the mind,
abandon your chest of wealth,
take up arms, and let your heart beat
with a noble rage!


O come, come along,
dance with joy, and fight for justice and truth!
come, brother, give up your life today
in the name of Allah!
See how the battle-cry of Faith
resound throughout the earth and the sky!
Hear the roars go up:
'No giving up today
Only taking over! '
Be ready now for the supreme sacrifice! .


Oh, all glory is about to disappear!
O come, come along!
There you can hear the ringing of the arms,
there you can hear the war-drums beat!
O come, come along!


Don your battle dress!
Will you hide your face in shame?
How far is the land
where everyday heroes celebrate
the festival of death
and spill gaily the blood of the foe?
Put on the attire of the brave
and rush to the land of those heroic people.
Today men of a captive land
go to secure the freedom of a free country!


O come, come along!
Say: Long live truth!
Long live the heroic and the noble!
Let the timids die!


As women hear the war-drums beat
they too laugh happily and clap their hands,
they too rush to the battle-field!
We want to fight!
We want to fight!


So beat the drum,
put your helmet on,
hold aloft the sword in your hand
For justice and truth we fight,
clad in crimson clothes are we!



O come, come along!
There sound the war-drums,
there they don the battle-dress!
O come, come along
There the bugler sounds the call for war
at the door of the seige,
there the canons break out in a song!
O come, come along!
There sound the war-drums,
there sound the battle-cries!
Come, raise your voice now
like the great Hazrat Ali's,
there is nothing to fear!


You will surely slay the false giant,
you will surely make truth prevail!
Have no fear as you march along
to kill your foe!


We are bold and fearless,
there is no timidity in our blood.
Holding high the standard of truth and justice
we shall destroy tile tyrants.
We are invincible,
we are full of love;
yet we can bear at ease our chest
before the sword!


The fighters are we,
we he long to the breed of real martyrs,
we gladly embrace death
fighting the tyrants.
Smilingly we receive the thrust
of the sword
On our breast.


We sing the victory of Freedom!
O come, come along!
There sound the war-drums
from beyond the vast deep! !


[Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]
👁️ 573

The Thorn of the Lotus

The Thorn of the Lotus

In my lotus-lake there remains only the

thorn of the lotus.
When did arise the tremendous noise,
Who did tear off the red lotus of my

bosom?
the lake from time to time maketh
the queries.
Why goeth not the thorn along with
the lotus?
I am now constantly covered with the cures

only of the bathing Nymph.
Will the wandering girls ever come to me?
Ever wear a garland made of my

lotus thread?
Will the pain of my thorn ever remain
only in my mind?
If the flower is gone, who will ever
entwine her bangle with the lotus-thorn?

[Translation: Abdul Hakim]
👁️ 377

The Run-Away

The Run-Away

O Chakravaki! What distant melodious

call of a known flute hast thou heard?
O my fugitive Bird!
What lost abode dost thou remember?
What paradise of thy dream?

O my Fugitive!
Tears flood thy unsteady eyes,
Tell, O tell me hat long-lost mother

calleth thee?

There under the shades of dusk from
the distant horizon some deep magic
spell beckoneth thee

Dost thou know who it is? O my wayward one!
Out of the fullness of heart and from the
depths of love it seems to call, Come,

Come, O Come,
Be in my lap, O my tyrant child,
O my fugitive Bird!
The south wind blowing over the forest,
Dose thy mother call thee now by raising

her hand, O Dear?
Dost thou, after all, distinguish thy kin

from one who isn't thy kin?
So, at the very peep of dawn descends
dusk on my low-roofed house!
The sheaves of paddy, or the secret call of Shyama
Dear! prey, tell me
What startled thee and made thee break thy bonds?
The eyes are overflowed with tears,
Who hath made thee drink Hemlock

. of evergreen tender love?
It seems of a sudden some young hare

startles and cries
'O Come, come, come
Come, O my dear Child,'
To the forest come back, O thou

Chakrabaki of the wood!
O Fickle Fugitive! . ,

[Translation: Abdul Hakim]
👁️ 468

The Resurgence (Islamic Lyric)

The Resurgence (Islamic Lyric)

There sounds the drum!
There on the ruined tower, dark and blank,
Flutters the once-mighty flag.
Raise your head, mussalmans,
Gird your loins and advance
The call of the New Age has come.


With the Kalma on your lips
And the sabre swinging against your hips,
With the fiery enthusiasm of Islam ill your
Shake off your lethargy and start.
With the love of Allah in your soul
Answer the call and take up your role.


There is nothing for you to dread.
You have that glorious amulet,
The Holy Quran, tied round your neck.
A pity that you overslept
And missed the Fazr prayer.
Neither did you awaken
When the Zohr did beckon.
And the Asr prayer you whiled away
In idleness and play.
The call for the Mughrib has also sounded.
You must hurry now to the Esha prayer.


Some room is still available there,
We are not really
Creatures of pomp and luxury.
Our Calipha once ru.led over half the universe
Dressed in clothes no better than beggers.
Once we only desired death
In the cause of our faith,


But now such a people as our's
Are numbed in a drunken stupor
While outside there rages a violent storm.


We had nothing but a dry piece of bread,
But we had a mighty faith and none did we dread,
A noble spirit of sacrifice we possessed.
And we moved from place to place without sleep or rest,
Always as victors great.


Let us bring back to our life
That faith and spirit of sacrifice:
Let the cry of Allah-o-Akbar
Resound in the lips of all.
Let the world tremble again
At the sound of that clarion call.


[Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]
👁️ 530

The Rebel

The Rebel

Say, Valiant,
Say: High is my head!


Looking at my head
Is cast down the great Himalayan peak!
Say, Valiant,
Say: Ripping apart the wide sky of the universe,
Leaving behind the moon, the sun, the planets
and the stars
Piercing the earth and the heavens,
Pushing through Almighty's sacred seat
Have I risen,
I, the perennial wonder of mother-earth!
The angry God shines on my forehead
Like some royal victory's gorgeous emblem.
Say, Valiant,
Ever high is my head!


I am irresponsible, cruel and arrogant,
I an the king of the great upheaval,
I am cyclone, I am destruction,
I am the great fear, the curse of the universe.
I have no mercy,
I grind all to pieces.
I am disorderly and lawless,
I trample under my feet all rules and discipline!
I am Durjati, I am the sudden tempest of ultimate summer,
I am the rebel, the rebel-son of mother-earth!
Say, Valiant,
Ever high is my head!


I am the hurricane, I am the cyclone
I destroy all that I found in the path!
I am the dance-intoxicated rhythm,
I dance at my own pleasure,
I am the unfettered joy of life!
I am Hambeer, I am Chhayanata, I am Hindole,
I am ever restless,
I caper and dance as I move!
I do whatever appeals to me, whenever I like,
I embrace the enemy and wrestle with death,
I am mad. I am the tornado!
I am pestilence, the great fear,
I am the death of all reigns of terror,
I am full of a warm restlessness for ever!
Say, Valiant,
Ever high is my head!


I am creation, I am destruction,
I am habitation, I am the grave-yard,
I am the end, the end of night!
I am the son of Indrani



With the moon in my head
And the sun on my temple
In one hand of mine is the tender flute
While in the other I hold the war bugle!
I am the Bedouin, I am the Chengis,
I salute none but me!
I am thunder,
I am Brahma's sound in the sky and on the earth,
I am the mighty roar of Israfil's bugle,
I am the great trident of Pinakpani,
I am the staff of the king of truth,
I am the Chakra and the great Shanka,
I am the mighty primordial shout!
I am Bishyamitra's pupil, Durbasha the furious,
I am the fury of the wild fire,
I burn to ashes this universe!
I am the gay laughter of the generous heart,
I am the enemy of creation, the mighty terror!
I am the eclipse of the twelve suns,
I herald the final destruction!
Sometimes I am quiet and serene,
I am in a frenzy at other times,
I am the new youth of dawn,
I crush under my feet the vain glory of the Almighty!


I am the fury of typhoon,
I am the tumultuous roar of the ocean,
I am ever effluent and bright,
I trippingly flow like the gaily warbling brook.
I am the maiden's dark glassy hair,
I am the spark of fire in her blazing eyes.
I am the tender love that lies
In the sixteen year old's heart,
I am the happy beyond measure!
I am the pining soul of the lovesick,
I am the bitter tears in the widow's heart,
i am the piteous sighs of the unlucky!
I am the pain and sorrow of all homeless sufferers,
i am the anguish of the insulted heart,
I am the burning pain and the madness of the jilted lover!


I am the unutterable grief,
I am the trembling first touch of the virgin,
I am the throbbing tenderness of her first stolen kiss.
I am the fleeting glace of the veiled beloved,
I am her constant surreptitious gaze.
I am the gay gripping young girl's love,
I am the jingling music of her bangles!
I am the eternal-child, the adolescent of all times,
I am the shy village maiden frightened by her own budding youth.
I am the soothing breeze of the south,
I am the pensive gale of the east.



I am the deep solemn song sung by the wondering bard,
I am the soft music played on his lyre!
I am the harsh unquenched mid-day thirst,
I am the fierce blazing sun,
I am the softly trilling desert spring,
I am the cool shadowy greenery!
Maddened with an intense joy I rush onward,
I am insane! I am insane!
Suddenly I have come to know myself,
All the false barriers have crumbled today!
I am the rising, I am the fall,
I am consciousness in the unconscious soul,
I am the flag of triumph at the gate of the world,
I am the glorious sign of man's victory,
Clapping my hands in exultation I rush like the hurricane,
Traversing the earth and the sky.
The mighty Borrak is the horse I ride.
It neighs impatiently, drunk with delight!
I am the burning volcano in the bosom of the earth,
I am the wild fire of the woods,
I am Hell's mad terrific sea of wrath!
I ride on the wings of the lightning with joy and profound,
I scatter misery and fear all around,
I bring earth-quakes on this world!


I am Orpheus's flute,
I bring sleep to the fevered world,
I make the heaving hells temple in fear and die.
I carry the message of revolt to the earth and the sky!
I am the mighty flood,
Sometimes I make the earth rich and fertile,
At another times I cause colossal damage.
I snatch from Bishnu's bosom the two girls!
I am injustice, I am the shooting star,
I am Saturn, I am the fire of the comet,
I am the poisonous asp!
I am Chandi the headless, I am ruinous Warlord,
Sitting in the burning pit of Hell
I smile as the innocent flower!
I am the cruel axe of Parsurama,
I shall kill warriors
And bring peace and harmony in the universe!
I am the plough on the shoulders of Balarama,
I shall uproot this miserable earth effortlessly and with ease,
And create a new universe of joy and peace.
Weary of struggles, I, the great rebel,
Shall rest in quiet only when I find
The sky and the air free of the piteous groans of the oppressed.
Only when the battle fields are cleared of jingling bloody sabres
Shall I, weary of struggles, rest in quiet,
I the great rebel.



I am the rebel eternal,
I raise my head beyond this world,
High, ever erect and alone!


[Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]
👁️ 796

The Nightingale is silent

The Nightingale is silent

The bulbul bird is silent in the nargis garden
Listening to the laments of the fallen flower
In spring next to the lovers tomb young poet sobs in solace
Pensive sky is still with clouds burdened with water
Next to the barmaids glass of wine, tears of sorrow rolIs like buds
The heart broken moon stares with melancholy eyes.

[Original: Bulbuli nirob; Translation: Kashfia Billah]
👁️ 568

Comments (0)

Log in ToPostComment

NoComments