Protest, Resistance and Revolution

Against the First Encirclement Campaign

Forests blaze red beneath the frosty sky,
The wrath of Heaven's armies soars to the clouds.
Mist veils Lungkang, its thousand peaks blurred.
All cry out in unison:
Our van has taken Chang Hui-tsan!
The enemy returns to Kiangsi two hundred thousand strong,
Fumes billowing in the wind in mid-sky.
Workers and peasants are wakened in their millions
To fight as one man,
Under the riot of red flags round the foot of Puchou !

Oppression


Now dreams
Are not available
To the dreamers,
Nor songs
To the singers.

In some lands
Dark night
And cold steel
Prevail
But the dream
Will come back,
And the song
Break
Its jail.

Madam and The Rent Man

The rent man knocked.
He said, Howdy-do?
I said, What
Can I do for you?
He said, You know
Your rent is due.


I said, Listen,
Before I'd pay
I'd go to Hades
And rot away!


The sink is broke,
The water don't run,
And you ain't done a thing
You promised to've done.


Back window's cracked,
Kitchen floor squeaks,
There's rats in the cellar,
And the attic leaks.


He said, Madam,
It's not up to me.
I'm just the agent,
Don't you see?


I said, Naturally,
You pass the buck.
If it's money you want
You're out of luck.


He said, Madam,
I ain't pleased!
I said, Neither am I.
So we agrees!

Let America be America Again

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.


(America never was America to me.)


Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.


(It never was America to me.)


O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.


(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")


Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?


I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.


I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!


I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.


Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings



In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."


The free?


Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.


O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.


Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!


O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!


Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!

Dream Boogie

Good morning, daddy!
Ain't you heard
The boogie-woogie rumble
Of a dream deferred?


Listen closely:
You'll hear their feet
Beating out and beating out a -


You think
It's a happy beat?


Listen to it closely:
Ain't you heard
something underneath
like a -


What did I say?


Sure,
I'm happy!
Take it away!


Hey, pop!
Re-bop!
Mop!


Y-e-a-h!

Democracy


Democracy will not come
Today, this year
Nor ever
Through compromise and fear.


I have as much right
As the other fellow has
To stand
On my two feet
And own the land.


I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I'm dead.
I cannot live on tomorrow's bread.


Freedom
Is a strong seed
Planted
In a great need.


I live here, too.
I want freedom
Just as you.

Children's Rhymes

By what sends
the white kids
I ain't sent:
I know I can't
be President.
What don't bug
them white kids
sure bugs me:
We know everybody
ain't free.


Lies written down
for white folks
ain't for us a-tall:
Liberty And Justice--
Huh!--For All?

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

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]

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]

The Muslims No Longer Rise

The Muslims no longer rise
With the same old fervour of faith,
With which they conquered the world apace


Burnt and bleak is the bower of birds
whose chirpings changed the fate of worlds,
And during the days of revolt
The Obedience to Allah brought!


No more is Siddiq's Sincerity!
No more is Umar's Sacrifice!
No more is Bilal's Faith!
No more is Ali's Zulfiqar! N
No more are Martyrs now
For Allah's Cause, to fight with vow


Our arms no longer strong!
Khalid, Musa and Tarik are gone!
Gone is the peacock's Throne!
To-day the beggars play the ruling role !


Islam only in the books,
And the Muslims in the graves.


[Original in Bangla: Jage na she loye ar; Kazi Nazrul Islam
Translation: Mizanur Rahman]

Struggle


You lived for so long,
Now once put your life on the line;
The same hands you use for only prayers,
With weapons let once those shine.


Tearing off the crescent from sky,
Decorate your flag that is crimson red;
Let the seniles live longer
You offer your precious life, go ahead.


[Original: Shadhona (Bengali) ,
Translation: Mohammad Omar Farooq]

Song of the Student

We are the power, we are the strength,
We the band of students.
The stormy wind makes obeisance tonus
And clouds and airships bow
Before us, the students class.


We can move in the darkness of the night
Needing no guiding light.
We walk with bare feet
Ever ready to dangers meet.
We move like a terrific flood
Making the stony earth scarlet with our blood.
Throughout the ages
Our blood has wet this soil.
We are not afraid of work or toil,
We the student class.


We hold the reins of the horse
Of the great King Deat.
Our lifeless corpse
Will write the history of our fights.
In the country of laughter, whenever needed,
We bring tears, bitter and cold.
We the students, mighty bold.


When everybody gives wise counsel
We are the people who err.
When the cautious one builds embankments
We sit still and do not stir.
We are the dare-devil youth
Who care for none,
We make our path slippery with blood,
We the student class.


The light of knowledge shines in our eyes,
And in our hearts burn boble ideas.
On our lips dwell no lies,
Which only proclaim
Effortlessly and with ease
The call of all times,
That has survived through war and peace,
And we have made the white lilies
Purple with our blood,
We the students; who move like a mighty flood.


In these terrible days of revolution
We are eager to march ahead and fight,
So that light may burst out
Ending the eternal darkness of the night.
In us seeks the twentieth century
Her emancipation.
With our tears of glory



The mother-earth clothes herself
In resignation.
There is no fear of death for us,
The mighty student class.


We dream of a joyous future, gay and bright,
Built on hope and love,
The milky-way in the sky
Shows us our path, straight and wide.
Let the dream of millions come true and right,
Let them see the splendid sight
Through the eyes of us.
The student class.


Translation: Kabir Chowdhury

Robbers and Dacoits

Who calls you a dacoit, friend,
Who calls you a robber?
All around dacoits reign today,
And thieves prosper.


Who is judging the robbers and the dacoits?
Who is the lord of justice?
Ask him, friend, who is not a dacoit today,
Who is not a robber chief.


My lord, raise your mace of justice and punish
Those wealthy and the rich who thrived
Robbing the humble poor and the deprive.
Today the greater the robber, the bigger the thief


and the cleverer the cheat
The more honourable, the more distinguished

and the more dignified his seat
In the assembly of nations.
All around
Bricks red with the blood of the subjects
Go to raise the king's palaces
And the factories of the gangster-rich flourish
Rendering thousands homeless.
The cunning devils start mills
Where men are ground to pieces,
Where from hungry millions emerge,
Sucked dry like sugarcane,
Bereft of their juices.

Squeezing out the life blood of millions of men
The mill owners amass vast wealth in their hidden den.
The money lenders grow rich
Robbing the helpless,
And the Zamindars on joy rides go
Rendering the weak homeless.
The greedy merchants in this earth
Have built a house of prostitution of wealth
There the vice Saki dances and drinks
The gold demon's health.

Losing health, food, life, hope, language and all
Bankrupt man is heading to a terrible fall.
There is no way of escape
The gold-hungry monsters have dug
Deep invincible moats all around,
The world today is a prison sound
With cruel gangsters working as sentinel.
Thieves are friends here
Cheats are comrades dear.

Who calls you a dacoit, dear friend?
Who calls you a robber?


You may have stolen money or goods,
But you have not dug a dagger

In some one's tender-heart.
You may be thieves all right
But not inhuman like the so-called great
You can turn Valmikis yet
When true men you meet
You who are the Ratnakars.

[Original: Chor-Dakaat; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

Resurrection


Wake up
You captives of hunger, arise.
You harassed, down-trodden masses,
Spell thunder at the oppressors -
The stirred voices of the sufferers cry.


A new world reborn is soon to dawn.
These fetters of ancient scriptures
Wrought this utter ruin;
Come, let us break in,
Shattering the devil's dungeon.


Wake up,
Ye, hapless masses, arise,
So that no 'one beneath
The feet of others lies.


On a new foundation
A young world shall dawn.
Listen, you tyrant!
Listen, you rich!
Though destitute,
Through the war,


Our rights
We shall recover
With the unity of sufferers
All the world over.


[Translation: Syed Mujibul Huq]

Rise Up, O Farmer!

O farmer, where is tile smile of your face?
Where is' your shepherd's bamboo flute'!
Where is your jute?
Who plunders it from your stock on riverside?
Who robs you of huge golden paddy grown in your fields?
The empty corn-bin in your courtyard resembles a husband-less daughter
lamenting in her father's home.
Your rural fields present winter-crops as though painted, why
does your son ask for salt and green chilies while eating?
It seems that the government has taxed on your curry too.
Have your sugar-canes been sweetened by the juice of your tears?
Who have drunk milk exploiting your cow?
Alas, your milk pot docs not hold even the starch of boiled rice.


Your younger child with high fever is healed up,
since he is sleeping in tile graveyard.
And he seems to drag her elder sister towards the grave, too.
The girl is calling him deliriously.
Mother replaces milk will oyster,
father weeps on his way to field burying his son;
around him tile fields are full of paddy and the sky is full of delight.
It seems that today's horizon is red by sucking' a farmer's blood.
Fields overflow with paddy, markets with goods,
the wharps with jute-loaded boats.


Who eats away tile crops of your field,who
are those swarm of locusts?
Why are you so destitute in this realm of merrymaking?
Why does the son of your home go to the grave?
Your cattle grazes in the vast pastures, but you get no milk,
O farmer, your hopes of living have gone away long before,
how do you stand lamentations beside a tomb?
Can't you wake up the burning of thunder in your arid bones?
How long shall you see with eyes wide open the theft by burglars?
Don't you possess a bamboo-stick even?
You may have no blood in your body, yet we want all your bones.
The plunderer robbing you of your boiled rice day
and night has ascended to affluency sucking your blood.


Your bone shall cause the bones of those plunderers decay,
and your rib-bones will turn into war swords.
Allah, the Benevolent, gives water to your fields,
energy to your wind to bloom flowers,
sun and moon rise up to grow your crops, would
those gifts of Allah again be plundered by that demon?
Though the sky is all clear, there is no hope.
Though Khuda's mercy comes in torrents,
you don't reach it. So raise up your hands straight,
that would give you instant strength.
Your crops shall fill your granary, and God shall bless you.


[Original: Otth re chashi; Translation: Mohammad Nurul Huda]

Pioneers, O Pioneers

O you who look so soiled and weary,
Collect your armour for the struggle,
Your rusty shovels, heavy hammers,
To save the earth from dire disaster.


We have no time for sport or revels,
No leisure for procrastinating.
The war's begun in deadly earnest;
We've deeds to plant and crops to harvest.


I see the young on fire and marching
Onward past mountains, vales and rivers,
Unbent and proud man's heritage,
Freedom and honour, in their keeping.


The ancient East, inert, feeble,
A waits a voice to end its slumber.
We will once more awaken, rouse it,
And set it stirring, breathing, moving.


The murky past is dead and buried.
We must emerge from sunless caverns
Into broad uplands bright and shining,
Create a world of newer splendour.


We'll scale the peaks and cross the gorges,
And overcome what risks lie hidden.
We'll fell old trees to build our bridges
And go down in the mines for treasure.


We are awake, no longer sleeping;
We have descended from the plateaus,
Reckless of hungry wounded tigers
And we must move and look not backwards.


We are beholden to those countries,
Egypt and China, Spain and Norway,
Russia, Korea, who have broken
Their age-old chains and savoured freedom.


O Fortune's darlings, I, the poet,
Have nought to offer but my anguish,
My hopes, My dreams, the red blood dripping
From Within my heart beating wildly.


Invoke the gods of ruthless terror,
Shrink not from blood, as green and daring
You must unfurl your country's banner
Armed to the teeth and marching forward.


Listen! beloved fearless children;
Wild beasts and vultures squeak behind you,



And rotting corpses leer, or, frowning,
Earn praise from those who're scared of movement.


Let not these horrors daunt Or frighten;
But torch in hand advance, resistless;
The battlefield is strewn with martyrs
Who died in hundreds faces shining.


The earth is pulsing with a new life,
A tremor coursing through its arteries.
Ours is the strength of many armies;
Our comrades wait in every hamlet.


Sailors and ploughmen, slaves and masters,
Workers and lovers, waifs and prisoners,
Unhappy men who know no laughter-
They too are actors in Our drama.


The day that wanes, the night that follows,
The planets which you see revolving,
Children not born yet, our future soldiers,
They too are bound on this quest endless.


Sisters, awake, your brothers need you
They'll lag behind if you are missing;
Arise and join them, Jet the vanguard
Move forward, rank on rank in order.


I hear the sound of bells announcing
The coming age, when dreams and reveries
Will be fulfilled, and hopes turn rosy,
And we will reach our destination.


We have no use for lifeless knowledge
Stored in thick tomes; We want no false dreams
Or short-lived joys, bejewelled footwear,
Or cushioned thrones, no wealth that's rotten.


We shall survive on bread and water.
And sleep on hard floors, learn to hate those
Who are enslaved by greed, those gluttons;
We will go forward, we the fighters.


Do wipe away your tears, my comrades,
And rest a while if are weary,
Do not lose heart if night is falling,
Our will is firm, our aim is steady.


[Translation: Syed Sajjad Husain]

O Destitutes!

With the curved smile on your tender lips, O crescent, is it a crooked suggestion?
Are you looking for companions to join you to loot every home in desperation?


As if at the command of Allah you are proclaiming from the sky,
O martyrs, why the rich do not pay zakat any more - ask, ask them why?


In surplus of these wealthy and rich, there is definitely a right
of all those hungry and deprived: this is Allah's message, so clear and trite.


Take away their surplus and their undeserving wealth; yes, take away!
You will be fulfilling a divine command, who stands in the way?


Why are you like living dead, imprisoned by powerlessness or decrepitude,
The plate of food rests close to you, yet why embracing death in hunger is your
attitude?


Have you no courage to extend your hand! Is your hand disabled or feeble?
I am, the bandit, here to collect the poor-due; get up and join me, don't quibble!


I have brought the message of Allah through the Eid's crescent that shines above,
We will break our fast with all those treasured surplus during this Ramadan - a month
we all love.


Everyone will eat and satisfy their hunger during this Eid celebration,
Don't despair and resign; rather loot your share of the blessings of God in rightful
jubilation.


[Original: Sharbohara (eid) by Kazi Nazrul Islam; Translation: Mohammad Omar
Farooq]

Kings and Subjects

I am the bard of equality.
At the crossroads I sing,
Where pity and sympathy
Have made us all comrades and brother


It is a simple question,

We are all children of this earth,

But can you tell me

Why are some kings, rolling in luxury

And some subjects, starving in gutters?

But it is a queer philosophy,
If I state this simple truth
I am charged with sedition.
The subject can turn a traitor as simply as that.
But whom shall I ask
Why a king should not be condemned
As a traitor to the people
For his thousand crimes and follies
It is the people who create kings
And not the kings the people
Is that the reason
Why the king tortures the people?
Is that the way
They express their gratitude?


How can you smile, friend?
We are only coolies and servants
In our own home and land.
We have given up our manliness,
Our strength, and power.
And what have we got?
Rendered eunuchs we are guarding today
The lascivious harem of the tyrant king.
Whom shall I relate to
This sad and tragic tale?
In our Own land we are the ruled and the oppressed.
Those who make up the very country
Have no right in it
While the rulers enjoy,
The people remain starved and hungry.


Whom shall I complain to


Of this grievous injustice?


All around we hear the sycophants crying


'God save the king, Glory to him',


We the people are always judged.


Is there no Hall of Justice for the kings and the
monarchs?

The war-drums sound deafeningly
And the country's youth rush


To the battle-field to die with smiles on their lips.

But the tender and loving hearts, losing their dear
ones,

Weep bitter tears at home.

And the ravens fly over their roofs.
The royal road is ready..

The victorious chariot will soon pass by

Rejoice, O Citizens!

Have not your sons come back?

Did not your brothers return? Are your husbands dead?

Why weep for them? They sleep in the lap

Of the Goddess of victory.
A dark shadow of gloom and grief

Envelopes the country today,

God save the King, glory to him?
Rejoice, O Citizens,

For the king has come out of his fort today
After so many days.
The King's chariot is flying fast,
Trampling under the wheels
The returned heroes,
Trampling underneath
The brave crippled soldiers and the glorious dead.
O the one-armed and the one-legged
Soldiers of the King,
Keep off the roads and move away
If you want to save your lives today.


Well, friend,
That is exactly what happens,


The people fight and win the battles
And sing the King's praises,
The people provide their rulers
With food and apparel.
The people serve the king with devotion and humility
Only to be rewarded like this.
Isn't that a queer justice, friend?
We have to bow down and make obeisance
To the servants who are paid from our money.
Come, O you all, and have a look
At those glorious Public Servants of our land.
The wheels of Time revolve,
And yet here in our country
Over millions of men
Rule a hundred thieves.
It is no wishful thinking,
Nor is the day very far
When all the kings of the world



Will, in unison, sing
The People's Victory.
[Original: Raja-Proja; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

In Salutation of One God

Let them spread jealousy, prejudice and defamation,
We will offer justice, peace and one God's proclamation.
Let them seek narrowness, pigeon-hole and mud from pond,
We will seek open space, shining light and love's bond.


Let them seek slave's life, we seek martyr's honor,
They fear death; while we search - it's hiding in which corner?
They won't die; if battle starts, they will hide behind a bush,
Nail-less, toothless - still boisterous, busy in giving each other a push.


They are lifeless, yet move by vile selfishness and greed,
They are jinns, ghosts, or mummies, from base desires can't be freed.
We are the new youth of Bengal; to wrestle with death we enjoy,
Due to grace we spare them, thinking them as ant or toy.


They are ever-skeptical about everything, also about human progress in future,
These disbelievers are disciples of Satan; pessimism and wrong vision they nurture.
They say, people will all be atheist, and anarchy is what they will bring,
We say, they will be believers, so that the song of heavenly bond they will sing.


Let them seek unhappiness, we will seek His forgiveness and love,
Let the ghosts seek graveyards, we will cherish the Garden from above.
People can see west's world wars, as punishment inflicted from Him,
And then turn away from more selfishness, singing peace and justice's hymn.


Let the owls stay in their hole, expecting no more sunrise,
Crows won't attack them again, let it be their claw-and-beak's demise.
Believers never say such things, they seek ray of hope and light,
Standing up against oppression and suffering, the believers delight.


The believers say, if we all turned toward Him in unison,
Shower of His mercy will bring on this earth like daily Eid celebration.
From seven heavens these believers want to bring colorful rainbow,
God never withholds His bounties; When does He ever say 'No? '


Those who seek mischief and unhappiness, exactly that they will get,
Let them choose as they wish; on the path of our choice our foot will set.
They seek the kingdom of monsters, we want God's kingdom,
This world then would experience peace, joy and freedom.


Our Lord's treasure is ever full, we won't lack anything anymore,
They want to fight over corpses like vultures or wild boar.
May God save us all, so that we don't tread that path of doom,
One God is our Lord, His everlasting beauty you always see abloom.


All the vices in this world, let it disappear, let it go away,
This world's darkness and hatred, may the ray of His love keep at bay.
From all the narrowness and prejudice may mankind's heart be free,
Let His light shine from every home under every blooming tree.


Those foster riot to loot, they are greedy monsters or gangsters,
Path of goodness and virtue they won't see, they will bring only disasters.



They are ever after vice, they are ever after conflict,
Their life is devoid of rhythm, they are spoiled, corpse-addict.


By God's soldiers, they will surely be overcome, in future that is near
These pirates - plunderer of crops and harvests - are ever so familiar.
They are spiders, creatures of darkness; stay away from their home and den,
In abandoned corners lie their web, they haven't seen life's vibrant garden.


Believe in God, in one and only God, in day as well as night
Heavenly ride will be with you, with God's sword in hand to fight.
Those who want to pass their life in sleep and laziness' fashion,
They don't want moon or sun, they are living dead, bound for humiliation.


Whose dream is everlasting youth, come, come that new generation,
Your sacrifice and work brought progress that are worthy of celebration.
Let them enjoy mud-slinging, their weapons are malice and vilification,
We will throw bouquet at them, and trumpet to one God our salutation.


[Translation: Mohammad Omar Farooq]

I Sing of Heroes

I sing of Heroes -

The youth, the revolutionary,

Who armed with a sharp Excalibur

Today go forth in all directions

With valiant steps and steady

Upon a campaign for the impossible,

The Egyptian Pyramids of Antiquity,

Stand as a chronicle of such campaign,

Heroes whose mere breath

doth drive away into oblivion

The dead leaves of moth-eaten scriptures

Who hew down the haunts and
temples of false gods. .

And the time-honoured ale-house

Of the grand hypocrite

In the person of a reputed Moralist;

Whose mighty streams of. ideal reform

Swept away the long-standing nuisance

The awful and heavy stocks and stones of customs,

The old fossils of dead scriptures.

Those who came fearlessly

To the temple of the unreal

Armed with the stout relentless club,

To break the bondage of 'Maya'

And did with undaunted courage

Strike, by means of mighty hammer

The Chinese walls of superstition.

Those who ploughed the Burial Ground

And pushed away the dead bones

To layout a garden of blooming flowers,

Who now crowd the sea shore of life,

As 'Cynosure of neighbouring eyes'
I sing of Heroes.

Who today march forward

Upon the path of life in tune, with the world

-At dead of night the other day
A passenger who, all alone,
launched his boat
On the dangerous Deep,
Did not return to the shore next morning.
In memory of that fearless adventurer
I shed my tears and write an Elegy
Even today in the stilIness of Night
Even today I keep sleepless night
And sing a song of welcome to him
He who did not return on the morrow
Did indeed take an aerial journey over night,
As a traveller of infinite space
In search of a far-off New World.
The eternal Sentinel at the gate of Death
Trembles in fear of him,
And keeps ever-wakeful vigils.


Those who under the mighty impulse of life

Pursue Death ceaselessly

In the depths of the ocean,

In the boundless sky,

And all over the surface of the Globe,

Those who go down into the Hades

And despoil the palace of Yakshas

of its rare gems,

Who disregarding the nite of the
terrible cobra

Steal the jewel from its head,

Who have controlled the thunder of Bajrapani,

And made the proud lightning,

Daughter of the clouds,

A captive and a maid -

I have come to salute and sing

Of those who are attended by the wind

As an obedient servant

Refreshing them with its balmy breath -

My wailings and lamentations ill all the air for those

Who mount the Scaffold

And the Scaffold itself is tired now

Of hanging them.

And in whose prison,

Behold, the fair Dawn held in fetters

Doth wake up and smile

A flowery smile!

[Ami gai tari gaan; Translation: Abdul Hakim]

Forgive us, O Prophet!

We haven't embraced your message,
Please forgive us, O Prophet!
We have forgotten your ideals
And the path for us that you did set.
Please forgive us, O Prophet!


You trampled like dust
Luxury and wealth, O master!
You never dreamed that
We will be kings or lords of disaster!


In this world's resource and treasure
Everyone has right of due measure;
You proclaimed, on this earth,
Equal son's treatment all will get.
Please forgive us, O Prophet!


In your religion, toward the unbelievers
You did not direct any hate;
You served them as your fellows,
For all of them was open your hospitable gate.


To demolish temples of others anywhere on land,
O valiant, you did not ever command;
Now even difference in opinion from others
We can't bear or tolerate.
Please forgive us, O Prophet!


You did not seek in the name of faith
Meaningless and shameful killing or fight;
You did not place sword in our hand,
Rather gave us guidance, so noble and upright.


Ignoring your tolerance and magnanimity
We have elevated fanaticism to a new nobility;
Is that why, from the heavenly fountain,
Does not flow that mercy, so divine and great?
Please forgive us, O Prophet!


We haven't embraced your message
Please forgive us, O Prophet!
We have forgotten your ideals
And the path for us that you did set.
Please forgive us, O Prophet!


[Translation: Mohammad Omar Farooq]

Fanaticism is not Religion!

Bullying, hypocrisy or fanaticism: that's not what religion is all about
According to all scriptures, fanatics are disciples of the devil: no doubt.
The one and only Creator of all: He is the loving Master ever;
That there is more than one Creator, no true religion can claim so; never.


Even then, partnership to God is attributed by Satan the smitten
Yet his judge is only God, no one else: in the Qur'an it is written.
Man can't be Satan's judge or try him; indeed, either to the Hell
or to Heaven, what human power can push him or propel?


'Guide only those who are lost' - this is a divine command,
Any wrongdoing even against the unbelievers: in the Qur'an it is patently banned.
Why do people sin, or why some go astray as human being?
Why some people come to this world handicapped, or without the power of seeing?


Why are some ever-destitutes, and some are ever-so-rich?
Why some always live in peace, while others are destined to trouble's ditch?
Which preacher or Mullah knows its mystery, please tell me
They have carried the load of scriptures - Qur'an, Vedas - like no more than a donkey.


Even to that wretched who did not call Him, as to the provision for his hunger,
Why God did not Himself deprive him, who can communicate to a scripture-monger?
His creation - like the open-wide sky - embraces all, none barred;
His air and wind flows everywhere: mosque, temple, or earth's every corner or yard.


On the basis of faith, the light of His sun and moon does not ever discriminate,
it comes to every home or nation; where does it cause any division or foster hate?
His rain comes in shower flowing in the field and yard of all the faithful,
His fire, water, air serve everyone - to the ingrate and the grateful.


His water brings the blessings of flower and fruit to the garden of every nation,
Who, yet, preaches hatred and division in His love's congregation?
No saint, dervish, yogi, a prophet or a messenger truly divine,
Ever reviled others' faith or religion - who isn't aware of this wisdom so fine?


Under the guise of religion, the bullies and the pretenders have a pact;
they stir up the ignorant mass as part of their vile selfish act.
They foster hatred and prejudice among different faith or nation;
these devils cherish power, while feeding themselves is their only preoccupation.


Under the guise of religious movements, these ugly faces
claim that, if in power, they will help their fellows, or that's how they make their cases.
Fame and medals of aristocrats these Zaminders, loan sharks, and filthy rich get
In reality, they care about none; on their own welfare their eyes are set.


All the wealth they amass, have they ever given anyone anything?
Has ever a homeless found shelter in their fancy, luxurious building?
In the name of nationality or religion, poison is what they spread;
These are poisonous snakes; Finish them - don't you dread!


One is not a believer who doesn't have tolerance or patience - a virtue so auspicious
They are gangs of demons, worse than titans or monsters - utterly vicious.



Those who are oppressors, they have no specific religion or affiliation,
They block people from the divine ray; these friends of darkness believe in no
reconciliation.


They bring agitation and hatred among people, and help break any relation,
They are monsters who snatch away others' food and water in disgraceful jubilation.
We must know that these people in their death's pang,
suffer in this life, as shame over their head does hang.


The ultimate Judge who has no partner, He
punishes whom in just a while, you will, yes you will, see.
We are poor, destitute, oppressed and weak!
To lead us astray those who incessantly tweak;
They breed discord, disturbance, and pursue their selfish fortune,
In the Qur'an God addresses these wretcheds: 'Turn into apes' to play their tune.


[Original: Gorami Dharmo Noy
Translation: Mohammad Omar Farooq ]

Day-Labourer


Your luxury cars are plying through the streets
And your big ships are cruising Over the Oceans.
The fast steam engines are running on railways,
The country is filled with plants and machinery:
Can you tell me whose contributions are all these?
With whose blood are your buildings
Painted red? Dismantle them and you'll find
On each piece of brick vividly written the names.
You may not know; but each and
Every grain of dust is aware of it,
The meaning of those roads, vessels, trains,
And of those decorative palaces.
The good days are coming soon:
Day after day your debts are being inflated
You must pay back those heavy debts.
Those who with hard labour broke the rugged hills
With hammer, shovel and pick-axe,
Their bones today are strewn 'on either side
Of those very roads. Those who, in order to render
You service, became day-labourers.
Those who covered their cherished body with dust
Only to carry you and your belongings,
They are indeed the real human beings,
they are the saints.
I sing their 'inner voice' through my songs.
Marching over their painful suffering breasts
The New Revolution will raise its new head.
You are reclining at ease
On the top of the third floor,
While we are rotting at the bottom;
Still you love to be
Addressed as 'My Lord'?
Absurd! That cannot be! !
The helm of this world must remain under
Those, whose mind and soul are soaked with
Sweet love for the motherland;
Those who journeyed with others through
The tiresome roads and covered their
Feet with dust; I shall pick up
That very dust from their feet and put it
on my head as a holy sacred offering.
Smeared with the blood of the pain stricken
Suffering humanity of the world
the new sun of the new Dawn is rising
above the horizon.
Break open today those ugly rusty doors
Of your narrow congested heart;
Take off those artificial garments of yours
Which look unnatural like coloured leather.
Look at the concentrated condensed air
Appearing deep blue in the sky,
Let them enter free in a frolicsome way



direct into your inner hearts -
Unlock all those obstructing clutches!
Let the entire blue Heaven fall down in our midst,
Let the moon, the sun and the stars shower on us.
Let all people of all times
and all climes come together
And stand up at the same confluence to listen to
The anthem of great unity under one flag-
If you torment here a single soul
The pain resounds in a crescendo
In the aggrieved hearts of all others.
Insult to a single person here means
Humiliating the whole of humanity
An insult to all of us.
Today is the day of upheaval
Against the heart-rending agony and pain
Of the great Human-beings of the world.

[Translation: Amir Hossain Chowdhury]