Songs of Liberation: October 2004 Archives

By Kazi Nazrul Islam

I am not a poet of today, nor a prophet of a future day,
Poet or worthless, call me whatever, I put up with anything you say.
Some say, to the future you belong,
Your place, as a poet, tomorrow will come along.
How come you lack message enduring like that emanates from Rabi's hand?
I am blamed, but I wont' quit playing rising sun's music band.
My fellow poets are disappointed, they read my works and sigh,
Saying: the good one is becoming no good, as he can't say to politics good-bye.
Does not read a book - finished is this chap!
Some say: His wife has brought, indeed, all this mishap!
Some say: The fat one is spoiled, playing cards - non-stop - in the jail,
Others say: You were better there; toward jail again you should sail!
Mentor says: You're no good, except shaving using a sword!
Every Saturday my lover's letter conveys me, "Nothing useful in you is stored."
I say: Honey, shall I reveal the secret?
Letters stop in a hurry; not one more, I get.
Sacrificing everything, I got married: Hindus say, "Get lost"!
Am I Muslim or a heathen? Where is my pigtail or beard, or the hem of loin-cloth?
All the goody-searching priests or Mollahs wave their hands and pronounce:
This one invokes names of deities; this rogue one we must denounce!
Hear the Fatwa: Kafir is this Kazi; nothing else,
Even though, he wants martyrdom, or so he tells!
Some scripture we know, and we still earn our livelihood!
Hindus detest my use of Persian words saying: from us, this guy deserves no good!

"To whom shall I go to learn about my Beloved?
Kabir says: "As you never may find the forest if you ignore the tree, so He may never ben found in abstractions."

Kabir

I hear the melody of His flute, and I cannot contain myself:
The flower blooms, though it is not spring;
and already the bee has received its invitation.
The sky roars and the lightning flashes,
the waves arise in my heart,
The rain falls; and my heart longs for my Lord.
Where the rhythm of the world rises and falls,
thither my heart has reached:
There the hidden banners are fluttering in the air.
Kabir says: "My heart is dying, though it lives."

You are not merely the nectar of my mind,
You are something beyond that too,
Victory to Bengal, victory!

Sprinkling moonlight, charged with emotion, you are
light and full of light,
I behold you in the morning light, I cover you with
colorful flowers,
Anointing my heart with your pollen, you are the land of
knowledge,
I am your loving child, O Bangalisthan, my motherland,
You are beyond good and bad, you are full of life.

Prabhat Ranjan Sarkar

Beast-meat and man-meat are the same,
both have blood that's red, sir.
Men eat beasts, but even jackals
shun a man that's dead, sir.
The potter Brahmas shaped the earth;
death, birth - where do things pass, sir?
But you eat animals and fish
as if they grew like grass, sir.
For gods and goddesses of clay
you slaughter a living beast, sir.
If your god's real, why can't he go
to the field and have his feast, sir?
Kabir says, 'saint, say Ram, Ram,
and Ram and Ram again, sir.
The things men eat to please their tongues
come back to eat the men, sir.

Kabir