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’Rebel poet’ Kazi Nazrul (Page 2)

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Kazi Nazrul Islam

Kazi Nazrul Islam (Bangla: ??????????????) (b. 1899, d. 1976) was a Bengali poet. He is the national poet of Bangladesh, and is revered in West Bengal, India as well. He is also known as Vidrohi Kobi, the rebel poet.

Early life

Kazi Nazrul Islam was born in the village of Churulia 24 Parganas, which is now part of West Bengal, India. His father Kaji Fakir Ahmed was the Imam of the local mosque. Nazrul's family was quite poor, and Nazrul was often referred to by the locals as Dukhu Mia (the destitute one). Nazrul left home at an early age and his life was varied for a time. He worked for a while in a bread factory in Asansol, which was also where his literary abilities first came to be noted. Later, at the age of eighteen, whilst a secondary school student in class Ten at Raniganj (in today's West Bengal), Nazrul came under the spell of the distant First World War. He joined the new Bengal Regiment and was posted in Karachi. Although the regiment never faced battle and was disbanded in 1920 after the cessation of hostilities, the cadence of the soldier's parades and marches permeates much of his writing from this time. Kazi Nazrul Islam was born in the month of May,1898.He was the child of Kaji Fakir Ahmed and Jaheda Khatun.In 1924 he was married to Promila Sengupta.

Literary career

He had very little education while at class X he joined the army in the post of Habilder in Bengal regiment.From 1917 upto 1919 he had been in the army. His first published poem was "Mukti" came out in 1919. Nazrul returned to Kolkata in the 1920s. He exploded into the Bengali literary scene, where his soldier's voice sent shockwaves into the genteel tradition of the times. His Muslim background also set him apart in the Hindu dominated culture. Sometimes the swaggering rebel, talking in military staccato, and sometimes the gentle creative poet, lilting cadences dancing through his song, Nazrul brought in a breath of fresh air.

Nazrul's place in the Bengali literary canon was secured when he published Vidrohi (Rebel) in 1922. Set in a heroic meter, this long poem invokes images from Hindu, Muslim and Greek mythology. Nazrul's rebel is destructive, unrepentant, hard, but also romantic, soft and gentle ("sleep smothered like the flute of Orpheus"):

I am unstoppable, irresponsible, brutal
I am
Nataraja, I destroy the universe
     With my metered dance.
Like a cyclone, I blow fear into the hearts of men
I crush underfoot all rules and traditions
Fully laden boats I sink, a dark menace:
     A torpedo, a floating mine.
My hair dishevelled, I am the untimely storm
Unpredictable. I am the first raindrop
Tenderly I kiss the parched soil.
Rebel Incarnate I have come
     From the womb of Mother Universe.

Vidrohi sent shockwaves across Bengal. First published in the magazine Bijli, it sold out immediately and several reprints of the issue were printed. Apparently, after writing Vidrohi, Nazrul stormed into the Tagore residence, declaring loudly, "Gurudev, I have come to kill you off" (Gurudev or "Revered Guru", was of course Rabindranth). This poem was followed by others in this angry rebellious vein, such as Pralayollas (Destructive Euphoria) and Kamal Pasha, all of which found resonance in a land that was politically ready to erupt against British rule. His first book, the hugely popular Agniveena (Fiery lyre, 1922), led to the popular moniker "rebel poet" (Vidrohi Kabi). By the end of the year, however, Nazrul was arrested for writing a thinly veiled political allegory, and was imprisoned for a year.

Politics

Nazrul's literature can hardly be separated from his politics. After Nazrul achieved fame as a poet, he started editing a weekly political and literary magazine called Dhumketu (The comet). It launched with a now famous adulation from Rabindranath Ay chole ay re dhumketu, andhare badh agnisetu (O comet, come, create the firebridge in the darkness). Dhumeketu openly opposed British rule in India, and soon enough, it was shut down and its workers, Nazrul foremost, were imprisoned. Over the years, Nazrul was imprisoned several times, and some of his very best literature comes from his experiences in prison:

Ei shikol bhanga chhal, moder ei shikol bhanga chhal
Ei shikol porei shikol toder korbo re bikol
(This, our shackled dance, O our shackled dance
We shall break our shackles by embracing them)

This poem was written when Nazrul was literally kept shackled in Presidency jail. While being prosecuted on various counts, Nazrul denied the help of a lawyer, and instead produced one of his most memorable pieces of prose, the fiery Rajbandir Jobanbandi (Deposition of a political prisoner), which he read to the court. He also once went without food for forty days to protest against the treatment of political prisoners in the prison.

Nazrul was unequivocal in his demand for India's freedom from British colonial rule. Nazrul was among the first of British India's intellectuals to demand the complete independence of India, as opposed to Swaraj as promoted by Gandhi at that time or dominion status. Nazrul vehemently opposed swaraj, literally meaning "self rule", and supported armed rebellion against the British, in contrast with the non-violent methods adopted by Gandhi. At one point, Nazrul joined Langol (The plough), a major socialist newspaper. Nazrul, a Muslim, was also strongly against the Pakistan movement which demanded a separate homeland for Indian muslims.

Nazrul-Geeti: Oeuvre in Song

In addition to the body of his poetic work, Nazrul - who was also a talented musician - composed more than three thousand songs. After the success of his early poetry, and his increasing stature in literary and political circles, Nazrul started setting his words to music from the late 1920s. This music constitutes an entire genre in Bengali music today, under the name of nazrul-geeti. It, remains immensely popular, involving a large number of artistes and an active recording industry both in West Bengal and Bangladesh. Some of his love songs are particularly notable, like this song which never fails to resonate with anyone who has experienced the monsoon breaking with its towering dark clouds:

In this dark cotton cloud rain
The forest has spread out green
Beyond its boundaries
O where are you
In this dark cotton cloud rain. . . (meghamedura-baraShAy,
??????????????)

His fiery patriotic songs are also notable:

Breaking down the doors of dawn
We shall bring the morning on
Shredding darkness with our song
    We shall overcome. ... (Chal-Chal-Chal,
??????)

Nazrul became associated with the Kallol literary group which was moving out from the shadow of the Nobel Laureate and poet Rabindranath Tagore. He also continued his political activity, running for election in 1926. For a period, much of his writing was banned. Other notable books of poems and songs from this period include Dolonchampa(1923), Bisher Bansi (The poisonous flute, 1924), Bhangar Gan (Songs of break-up, 1924), Puber Haoya (The east wind 1925) and Bulbul(1928).

Nazrul lived in divisive times. Religious communalism was on the rise, Muslims felt disenfranchised and alienated in the majority Hindu culture. There were a number of Hindu-Muslim riots, culminating in an upsurge of carnage at the time of the independence of India and Pakistan from British rule in 1947, when the British Empire was divided into three parts along religious lines. Through all this, Nazrul remained committedly non-communal, writing both Shyama-Sangeet in praise of Kali, as well as Islamic Hamd songs.

His wife Pramila Devi was Hindu and he chose Sanskritic names for his sons. In later years, his liberal views on religion came under attack from the Muslim right.

Illness and later life

Commemorative stamp Bangladesh

In 1942 Nazrul fell seriously ill and - despite all efforts at treatment - gradually lost his voice and memory.He was take to 'Dhaka' the capital city of Bangladesh. By then he had become an embittered man, as evidenced in this letter, his last piece of writing (dated July 17, 1942):

Dear Haider, ... I am bed-ridden due to blood pressure. I am writing with great difficulty. My home is filled with worries: illness, debt, creditors; day and night I am struggling. ... My nerves are shattered. For the last six months, I used to visit Mr. Haque daily and spend 5-6 hours like a beggar. ... I am unable to have quality medical help. ... This might be my last letter to you. With only great difficulty, I can utter a few words. I am in pain almost all over my body. I might get money like the poet Ferdowsi on the day of the funeral prayer (janajar namaz). However, I have asked my relatives to refuse that money ... Yours, Nazrul

He entered a world of increasing isolation, until 1972, when the newly formed nation of Bangladesh rediscovered him and he was honoured as the national poet. However, Nazrul's physcial and mental condition never improved, and he died on 29th August,1976. In accordance with a wish expressed in one of his poems, he was laid to rest beside a mosque on the campus of the University of Dhaka.

Today, Nazrul's legacy continues to energize the Bengali people, and his poems are part of the rites of passage for each generation of Bengali youth. Unfortunately, not enough talented translators have gathered to his cause, and Nazrul's reputation lives mainly within the bounds of his language.

Yet there is a recklessness about him, both in life and in song, that never fails to attract the truant imagination that is the eternal hallmark of youth.



Edited by Qwest - 27 March 2006 at 10:52pm

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POETRY OF NAZRUL



Kazi Nazrul Islam, known as the 'Rebel'  poet in Bengali literature and the 'Bulbul'or  Nightingale  of  Bengali  music  was  one of the most colourful personalities of undivided  Bengal  between  1920 and 1930. His role in freeing modern Bengali poetry from  poor  and  unsuccessful imitations of Rabindranath Tagore was significant. He may be considered a pioneer of post Tagore modernity in Bengali poetry. The new kind of poetry  that he wrote made possible the emergence of modernity in Bengali poetry during  the  1920s  and  1930s.  His  poems,  songs, novels, short stories plays and political  activities  expressed strong protest against various forms of oppression slavery,  communalism, feudalism  and colonialism-and forced the British government not  only to  ban  many of his books but also to put him in prison. While in prison Kazi Nazrul Islam  once  fasted  for forty days to register his protest against the tyranny of the

government.

Some of Nazrul's Selected Poems

  The Rebel

  God

  Human being

  Woman

  Prostitute

  The Eternal Child

  The Poet's Queen

  On a Farewell

  Hope

  For the Poets of Days to Come

  Poverty

 

http://www.ethikana.com/music/nazrul_geeti.htm

 

Add a Rafi song! ]

Non Filmi - Nazrul Geet
Release Year  
Track(s) Singer(s) Lyricist Musician
Aajo Madhur Bansuri Baaje (Bengali) Mohd Rafi     Kazi Nazrul Islam   
Pashaner Bhangaley Ghoom (Bengali) Mohd Rafi     Kazi Nazrul Islam   
Uchatano Mon Gharey Roi Na (Bengali) Mohd Rafi     Kazi Nazrul Islam   
Tomar Haather Sonar Rakhee (Bengali) Mohd Rafi     Kazi Nazrul Islam   
Cheyona Sunayona (Bengali) Mohd Rafi     Kazi Nazrul Islam   
Alga Karo Go Khompar Badhan (Bengali) Mohd Rafi     Kazi Nazrul Islam   
Adho Adho Bol (Bengali) Mohd Rafi     Kazi Nazrul Islam   
Brajogopi Khele Hori (Bengali) Mohd Rafi     Kazi Nazrul Islam   

 



Edited by Qwest - 28 March 2006 at 2:10pm
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Kazi Nazrul Islam

Seeing myself I see the unseen creator

Kazi Nazrul Islam: Known as "The Bidrohi Kobi," "The rebel Poet" for his astonishing masterpiece "The Bidrohi." A furious manifesto of self-conscious against immorality. Sajid Kamal describes the poem as, "A universal proclamation, an affirmation, an inspiration, an invocation, of 'The Rebel' within the hearts of each 'I' of the common humanity which lay oppressed, subjugated, exploited, resigned and powerless." It is said that Nazrul would have been Nazrul even if he hadn't written anything else but "The Bidrohi.

The following is a part of the poem "The Bidrohi."


Bidrohi - The Rebel

I clasp the hood of the snake-king
and the fiery wing of the angel Gabriel.
I am the child-divine-restless and defiant.
With my teeth I tear apart the skirt of mother Earth.

Sajed Kamal (translation)

The national poet of Bangladesh, Kazi Nazrul Islam was born in Churulia, Burdhaman district, West Bengal in 1899 (1306 Bengali year.) He didn't grow up with the luxury of enjoying his boyhood, rather lost his father in his early life. For financial hardship, he worked as a teacher in a lower "Islamic school," at the age of 9. His education went up to 10th grade but continued learning Arabic and Persian languages. As a boy, he translated Persian ghazals and Arabic writings in Bengali. He also educated himself enough to enjoy the writings of Keats, Shelly and Whitman.

The British rule of India influenced Nazrul to take an active part through his writings in the Swadishi and Khilafat movement. He was imprisoned by the British government for one year of hard labor for his writing "Andamoyeer Agamaney," which appeared in Dhumketu.

Rabindranath Tagore called him "Dhumketu," "The Comet," Mahatma Ghadhi described his poem as, "The song of the spinning wheel" and "Nazrul is the ultimate spirit of the spinning wheel and freedom runs through his vein."

Nazrul wrote 50 books of poetry and songs, 6 books of stories and novels, 3 books of translations, 53 plays, verse-plays and operas, 2 movie scripts, 5 books of essays and 4000 songs and ghazals. (Source: Nazrul Institute, Bangladesh.)

Nazrul holds the world record of recorded songs, most of which, the music were composed by Nazrul himself. (Source: Nazrul Institute.) 

The Rebel Poet Kazi Nazrul Islam, not only refused to compromise with the unjust, but carried on so much of agony throughout his entire life. His first son Krishna Muhammad died in less than a year of his birth; his second son Bulbul also died in his childhood. Broken-hearted Nazrul wrote his first Bengali gazal...

He also wrote:

His wife Pramila became paralyzed from her waist down in 1938. Nazrul found himself more hopeless and depressed. Starting in 1942, he felt loss of speeches and finally became mentally dysfunctional and lost his speech completely in a short time.

The rebel poet Nazrul, in his poem "Bidrohi," once said....

I will stamp my footprints on the chest of God He also wrote....

Bury me by a mosque, so that I can hear "The Ajan" in every dawn

As his final wish, in 29th of August in1976, The national poet of Bangladesh Kazi Nazrul Islam was laid to eternal rest by the mosque of Dhaka University.



Edited by Qwest - 28 March 2006 at 11:30am
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Who are you, my friend,
searching for God in heaven
and the underworld?
Who are you—searching
through the wilderness
and mountain peaks?
It's a pity—O Rishis and Dervishes,
you go on searching for Him
from country to country
while holding the Jewel of the Heart
in your own heart!
The whole creation looks at you
while your own eyes are shut.
You search for the creator
instead of searching for your self.
O self-inflicted Blind—open your eyes,
look at yourself in the mirror.
You'll see—His shadow falls on your body.



Edited by Qwest - 27 March 2006 at 11:11pm
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Clap

'Bhul hoye geche bilkul
baki sobkichu bhag hoye geche
bhag hoyniko Nazrul'
- Annadashankar Roy

Literal translation

We committed a grave mistake during partition!
We divided everything in two
Couldn't do that with Nazrul
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Kazi Nazrul Islam: The
unconquerable spirit

by Muhammad Zamir

Kazi Nazrul Islam burst like a meteor on the literary firmament of Bengal. He arrived at a time when Rabindranath Tagore was the undisputed master. The gay, brave, staccato rhythms of Nazrul Islam were in stark contrast to the sedate and soft rhythms that had characterized the era.
   Nazrul's was a note of revolt. Professor Abu Mohammad Habibullah described it very well when he said it was 'a passionate denunciation of all that was old, ugly and inert, a vibrant call to destroy the diseased world and create a new order of justice, peace and beauty.' For two decades Nazrul almost equaled Tagore as a literary power but also had the maturity to treat Guru Dev with deep reverence.
   Nazrul Islam was barely twenty-one when he made his first appearance in Bengali literature in the nineteen-twenties, having been demobilized from the recently raised Bengali Regiment created for service in the Middle East.
   Buddhava Bose noted in 1942 that Nazrul's appearance 'synchronized with the great upheaval in Indian life known as the first Non-Cooperation Movement. In those days, when the whole of India experienced a sudden, a magical sense of release, we in Bengal found in Nazrul Islam a voice of the moment.' He came to fame with a long rhapsodic poem called 'Vidrohi' (The Rebel). This was followed by others of equal or greater merit.
   Freedom from bondage was the keynote of the poems of his first phase. Wild and exuberant, these poems intoxicated the masses. In this, Nazrul Islam was probably nearer to Dwijendralal Roy and Satyendranath Dutta who had graced the Bengal literary scene before him.
   Nazrul Islam wrote with equal ardour on Hindu and Muslim subjects, on the goddess Kali and on Kemal Pasha. His mind, nourished on the myths and legends of both India and Arabia, was at home as much on the Gangetic plains as in the Arabian desert.
   Nazrul Islam's early writings set him apart from his generation of writers. His work quite often dealt with the Muslim tradition and was marked by the generous and very effective use of Arabic and Persian words and expressions. These were also written in a rhythm and metre which, though within the rhythmic pattern of Bangla poetry, were strikingly original. These poems attracted wide attention not merely for their themes, but also for the resonance of their metres as well as their vigour and passion.
   In one of these poems entitled 'Korbani,' the Muslim festival in which animals, are sacrificed, Nazrul, despite opposition from Muslim pacifists and Hindu mainstream belief, defended it as not mere killing, but as a discovery of one's strength and the overcoming of timidity. In another poem entitled 'Muharram,' the festival of mourning which commemorates the martyrdom of the Prophet's grandson, he called for sacrifice and not for lament. For him the murder at Kerbala was a battle for justice and truth. In another poem 'Kheya Parer Taroni' (The Ferry Boat), he symbolized salvation through the cardinal tenets of the Islamic faith. This piece is remarkable for Nazrul's mastery of words and rhymes evocative of the measured rhythm of the oarsman.
   For the next decade or so, Nazrul dominated the literary scene of Bengal as a prolific writer of prose, poetry and song. He used imagery from Sanskrit, Bengali, Arabic and Persian. He also dovetailed powerful evocative sounds from the classical rhythm and mixed them with the melody patterns of Bengali music. Arabic and Urdu tunes were also relied upon.
   His poems aroused the youth to the supreme and immediate duty of sacrificing themselves for the Mother, identified with the Motherland, who hungry and dishevelled, was crying from door to door for her sons. This was best reflected in his poem 'Moron Boron' (Welcoming Death) where he invokes the god Siva and says, 'Let your feet, heavy with destruction dance in fierce, terrible rhythm over the hearts of those people who die before death.'
   Needless to say, such writings could not but attract the hostile attention of the British colonial government. The final crunch came with the publication of a poem addressed to the goddess Durga, invoking her to appear in her most terrible and destructive aspect and descend in a mad dance to destroy the vile oppressive rule of the foreigners. This resulted in the poet being arrested on the charge of sedition. Nazrul defended himself in court, arguing that he had a sacred right as a poet to speak out the truth, without fear. His defence was, however, overruled. He was jailed for a year; his journal was suppressed and five of his books were proscribed.
   Towards the thirties Nazrul Islam gradually withdrew from frenzied activism to the world of music and to contemplative mysticism. With his innate gift of innovation and defiance of established norms, he began to introduce new themes and new tunes on popular subjects. This is best exemplified in his masterly ghazals which were greatly influenced by the thumri from Lucknow. Strengthened by, and synchronizing with, his new and bold movement in literature (as evident in his Kallol), this new music was able to create a wider and warmer interest in the art of music than had been the case in the recent past. Versatile Nazrul brought into his ghazals, a greater range and abundance than was present in Atul Prasad's works. He also introduced his own personal intensity to the traditional raga, baul and kirtan.
   Nazrul Islam endeared himself to his audiences because he never pretended to be learned or sophisticated. It was the heart that mattered to him the most. He was spontaneous and had the unique gift of being able to produce his literary work in the midst of whatever he was doing at that moment. He was an icon who became the embodiment of Bangalee aspirations, a distinction which cannot be claimed for any one else of his time.
   Muhammad Zamir, a former Secretary and Ambassador, is the President of Bangladesh Center for Folklore Research.



Edited by Qwest - 27 March 2006 at 11:18pm
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Kazi Nazrul Islam : Letters of his hardship in life


Letter I:
To Sri Pobitro Gangopadhdhay

December 19, 1920
Dr. Bose's Sanatorium, Deoghar

[excerpted; emphasis mine]

... I just settled at the above address. I couldn't go to Shimultola. I had to change my mind. I will let you know later. It's not a bad place. But I won't be able to live here more than a month, because I am not feeling good here. ... Did you give the money of "Narayan" to Avinash Da? If there is money on hand, ask to send to my address TWO takas of "Bijli" through their office. ... How is your wife? Introduce me to her through this letter. If I don't get your reply by tomorrow, I am going to make you two quarrel later on. ... Let Kanti Babu know my greetings and respects. I will write story for you, but let me organize myself little bit more. It's terribly cold here. Money is finished. Let Afzal or Khan send some moeny soon. Please check on this, and tell them that I carry human blood. If they help me today, it won't go waste! I will make it up in future.

Your ill, dodhi-lubdho
Nazr

 

Letter II:
To Sri Broojbihari Burman

December 12, 1926
Krishna Nagar

Dear Brojo,

I am still bed-ridden. I am suffering much from my illness and agony of other worries. Worrying about money is the biggest one. Only Allah knows how the days are passing. I received fifteen taka you sent. I wanted twenty-five. Of course, I came to know your circumstances too. I will be tremendously grateful, if you can send some more during my difficult time. You are like my young brother; what else can I write to you? Keep me informed about you. How is the market for "Shorbohara?"

Your, 
Kazi Da

Letter III:
Dear Burman,


I am in big trouble. I have slow fever every day. Gopal was supposed to send money, but I did not receive any even today. There is absolutely no money here at home.

As soon as you receive this letter, you must send at least twenty taka by TMO. Otherwise, it would be big trouble for me. There is no money for even grocery. I really will be in serious trouble if no money is sent. I am already deeply indebted, I can't borrow any more from here.

Your
Kazi Da

Source: Nazrul Rochonaboli, Vol. 4, 1996, pp. 371/382/388


[Except for a brief period, Nazrul life was, in addition to other aspects, a financial struggle. Poverty was among his most loyal companion throughout his life. On one hand, he embraced it with nobility and greatness (as indicated in his poem "Daridro") and he could most easily identify with the masses; on the other hand, this was probably the area about which he was most sensitive, as indicated in his article "Boror Priti Balir Baadh".]




Edited by Qwest - 27 March 2006 at 11:30pm
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Kazi Nazrul Islam: On Proverty

Poverty
Kazi Nazrul Islam
[(Original: Daridro)
Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]


O poverty, thou hast made me great.
Thou hast made me honoured like Christ
With his crown of thorns. Thou hast given me
Courage  to reveal all. To thee I owe
My insolent, naked eyes and sharp tongue.
Thy curse has turned my violin to  a sowrd.

O proud saint, thy terrible fire
Has rendered my heaven barren.
It has prematurely dried beauty.
My feelings and my life .
Time and again I stretched my lean, cupped hands
To accept the gift of the beautiful.
But those hungry ones always came before me.
And did snatch it away ruthlessly,
Now my word of imagination is
Dry as a vast desert.
And my own beautiful!  

My yellow-stalked pensive desire
Wants to blossom like the fragrant shafali.
But thou cruel one
Dost ruthlessly break the soft stalk
As the woodcutter chopsthe branches
Off the trees. My heart  grows tender
Like the autum morning
It fills with love
Like the dew-laden earth.
But thou art the blazing sun
And thy fiery heart dries up the tiny drop of the earth
I grow listlessin the shadowy skirt of the earth
And my dreams of beauty and goodness vanish!
With a bitter tongue thou askest,
"What's the use of nectar?
It has no sting, no introxication, no madness it.
The search for heaven's secred drink
Is not for the in this sorrow-filled earth.

Thou art the surpent, born in pai .
Thou will sit in the bower of thorns
And weave the garland of flowers.
I put on thy forhead the sing
Of suffering and woe."

So I sing, I weave a garland,
While my throat is on fire,
And my serpent daughter bites me all over!

O unforgiving Durbasha! thou wanderest
From door to door with thy beggar's bowl.
Thou goes to the peaceful abode of
Some sleeping happy couple
And sternly callest, "O fool,
Knowest thou, that this earth is not anybody's
Pleasure bower for luxury adn ease.
Here is sorrow and separation
And a hundred wants and disease.
Under the arms of the beloved
There are thorns in the bed,
And now must thou prepare
To savour these." The unhappy home
Is shattered in a moment,
And woeful laments rend
The air. The light of joy is extinguished
And endless nights descends.

Thou walkest the road alone
Lean, hungryand starved.
Suddenly some sight makes thy eyebrows
Arch in annoyance and thine eyes
Blazeforth-firesof anger!
And lo! famine, pestilence and tornado
Visit the country, pleasuregarden burn,
Palaces tumble, thy law
Knows nothing but death and destruction.
Nor for theethe license of courtesy.
Thou seekest the unashaamed revelation of stark nakedness.
Thou knowest no timid hesitation or polite embarrassment
Thou dost raise high the lowly head.
At thy signal the travellers on the road to death
Put round their neck the fatal noose
With cheerful smile on their faces!
Nursing the fire of perennial want in their bosom
They worship the god of death in fiendish glee !
Thou tramplest the crown of Lakshmi
Under thy feet. What tune
Dost thou want to wiring
Out of her violine? At thy touch
the music turns into criesof anguish!
Waking up in the morning Iheard yesterday
The plantive Sanai mourning those
Who had not returned yet, At home
The singer cried for them and wept bitter tears
And floating with that music the soul of the beloved
Wandered far to the distant spot
Where the love anxiously waited.
This morning I got up
And heard the Sanai again
Crying as mournfully as ever.
And the pensive Shefalika,
       sad as a widow's smile,
Falls in clusters, spreading
A mild fragrance in the air.
Today the butterfly dances in restless joy
Numbing the flowers with its kisses.
And the wings of the bee
Carry the yellow of the petals,
It's body covered with honey.

Life seems to have sprung up suddenly
On all sides. Asong of welcome
Comes unconciously to my lips
And unbidden tears spring to my eyes
Some one seems to have entwined my soul
With that of mother-earth. She comes forward
And with her dust-adorned hands
Offers me her presents.
It seems to me that she is the youngest daughterof mine,
My darling child!
But suddenlyI wake up with a start. O cruel saint, being my child,
Thou weepest in my home, hungry and stoned!

O my child, my darling one
I could not give thee even a drop of milk
No right have I to rejoice.
Poverty weeps within my doors forever
As my spouse and my child.
Who will play the flute?
Where shall I get the happy smile
Of the beautiful? Where the honeyed drink
I have drunk deep the hemlock
Of bitter tears!

And still even today
I hear the mournful tune of the Sanai.






Edited by Qwest - 27 March 2006 at 11:57pm

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