Society and the World

Buying and Selling chapter XI
And a merchant said, "Speak to us of Buying and Selling."
And he answered and said:
To you the earth yields her fruit, and you shall not want if you but know how to fill your
hands.
It is in exchanging the gifts of the earth that you shall find abundance and be satisfied.
Yet unless the exchange be in love and kindly justice, it will but lead some to greed
and others to hunger.
When in the market place you toilers of the sea and fields and vineyards meet the
weavers and the potters and the gatherers of spices, -
Invoke then the master spirit of the earth, to come into your midst and sanctify the
scales and the reckoning that weighs value against value.
And suffer not the barren-handed to take part in your transactions, who would sell
their words for your labour.
To such men you should say,
"Come with us to the field, or go with our brothers to the sea and cast your net;
For the land and the sea shall be bountiful to you even as to us."
And if there come the singers and the dancers and the flute players, - buy of their gifts
also.
For they too are gatherers of fruit and frankincense, and that which they bring, though
fashioned of dreams, is raiment and food for your soul.
And before you leave the marketplace, see that no one has gone his way with empty
hands.
For the master spirit of the earth shall not sleep peacefully upon the wind till the needs
of the least of you are satisfied.

Buying and Selling chapter XI
And a merchant said, "Speak to us of Buying and Selling."
And he answered and said:
To you the earth yields her fruit, and you shall not want if you but know how to fill your
hands.
It is in exchanging the gifts of the earth that you shall find abundance and be satisfied.
Yet unless the exchange be in love and kindly justice, it will but lead some to greed
and others to hunger.
When in the market place you toilers of the sea and fields and vineyards meet the
weavers and the potters and the gatherers of spices, -
Invoke then the master spirit of the earth, to come into your midst and sanctify the
scales and the reckoning that weighs value against value.
And suffer not the barren-handed to take part in your transactions, who would sell
their words for your labour.
To such men you should say,
"Come with us to the field, or go with our brothers to the sea and cast your net;
For the land and the sea shall be bountiful to you even as to us."
And if there come the singers and the dancers and the flute players, - buy of their gifts
also.
For they too are gatherers of fruit and frankincense, and that which they bring, though
fashioned of dreams, is raiment and food for your soul.
And before you leave the marketplace, see that no one has gone his way with empty
hands.
For the master spirit of the earth shall not sleep peacefully upon the wind till the needs
of the least of you are satisfied.

Buying and Selling chapter XI
And a merchant said, "Speak to us of Buying and Selling."
And he answered and said:
To you the earth yields her fruit, and you shall not want if you but know how to fill your
hands.
It is in exchanging the gifts of the earth that you shall find abundance and be satisfied.
Yet unless the exchange be in love and kindly justice, it will but lead some to greed
and others to hunger.
When in the market place you toilers of the sea and fields and vineyards meet the
weavers and the potters and the gatherers of spices, -
Invoke then the master spirit of the earth, to come into your midst and sanctify the
scales and the reckoning that weighs value against value.
And suffer not the barren-handed to take part in your transactions, who would sell
their words for your labour.
To such men you should say,
"Come with us to the field, or go with our brothers to the sea and cast your net;
For the land and the sea shall be bountiful to you even as to us."
And if there come the singers and the dancers and the flute players, - buy of their gifts
also.
For they too are gatherers of fruit and frankincense, and that which they bring, though
fashioned of dreams, is raiment and food for your soul.
And before you leave the marketplace, see that no one has gone his way with empty
hands.
For the master spirit of the earth shall not sleep peacefully upon the wind till the needs
of the least of you are satisfied.

Buying and Selling chapter XI
And a merchant said, "Speak to us of Buying and Selling."
And he answered and said:
To you the earth yields her fruit, and you shall not want if you but know how to fill your
hands.
It is in exchanging the gifts of the earth that you shall find abundance and be satisfied.
Yet unless the exchange be in love and kindly justice, it will but lead some to greed
and others to hunger.
When in the market place you toilers of the sea and fields and vineyards meet the
weavers and the potters and the gatherers of spices, -
Invoke then the master spirit of the earth, to come into your midst and sanctify the
scales and the reckoning that weighs value against value.
And suffer not the barren-handed to take part in your transactions, who would sell
their words for your labour.
To such men you should say,
"Come with us to the field, or go with our brothers to the sea and cast your net;
For the land and the sea shall be bountiful to you even as to us."
And if there come the singers and the dancers and the flute players, - buy of their gifts
also.
For they too are gatherers of fruit and frankincense, and that which they bring, though
fashioned of dreams, is raiment and food for your soul.
And before you leave the marketplace, see that no one has gone his way with empty
hands.
For the master spirit of the earth shall not sleep peacefully upon the wind till the needs
of the least of you are satisfied.

A Poet's Death is His Life IV
The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white
garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth,
while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens. There in the
suburb stood an old hut heavily laden with snow and on the verge of falling. In a dark
recess of that hovel was a poor bed in which a dying youth was lying, staring at the
dim light of his oil lamp, made to flicker by the entering winds. He a man in the spring
of life who foresaw fully that the peaceful hour of freeing himself from the clutches of
life was fast nearing. He was awaiting Death's visit gratefully, and upon his pale face
appeared the dawn of hope; and on his lops a sorrowful smile; and in his eyes
forgiveness.
He was poet perishing from hunger in the city of living rich. He was placed in the
earthly world to enliven the heart of man with his beautiful and profound sayings. He
as noble soul, sent by the Goddess of Understanding to soothe and make gentle the
human spirit. But alas! He gladly bade the cold earth farewell without receiving a smile
from its strange occupants.
He was breathing his last and had no one at his bedside save the oil lamp, his only
companion, and some parchments upon which he had inscribed his heart's feeling. As
he salvaged the remnants of his withering strength he lifted his hands heavenward; he
moved his eyes hopelessly, as if wanting to penetrate the ceiling in order to see the
stars from behind the veil clouds.
And he said, "Come, oh beautiful Death; my soul is longing for you. Come close to me
and unfasten the irons life, for I am weary of dragging them. Come, oh sweet Death,
and deliver me from my neighbors who looked upon me as a stranger because I
interpret to them the language of the angels. Hurry, oh peaceful Death, and carry me
from these multitudes who left me in the dark corner of oblivion because I do not bleed
the weak as they do. Come, oh gentle Death, and enfold me under your white wings,
for my fellowmen are not in want of me. Embrace me, oh Death, full of love and
mercy; let your lips touch my lips which never tasted a mother's kiss, not touched a
sister's cheeks, not caresses a sweetheart's fingertips. Come and take me, by beloved
Death."
Then, at the bedside of the dying poet appeared an angel who possessed a
supernatural and divine beauty, holding in her hand a wreath of lilies. She embraced
him and closed his eyes so he could see no more, except with the eye of his spirit. She
impressed a deep and long and gently withdrawn kiss that left and eternal smile of
fulfillment upon his lips. Then the hovel became empty and nothing was lest save
parchments and papers which the poet had strewn with bitter futility.
Hundreds of years later, when the people of the city arose from the diseases slumber
of ignorance and saw the dawn of knowledge, they erected a monument in the most
beautiful garden of the city and celebrated a feast every year in honor of that poet,
whose writings had freed them. Oh, how cruel is man's ignorance!

Where Is The Peacock's Throne

'Where is the Peacock's Throne,
And where the Ruling Role? '
Question the Muslims, with tears in eyes,
And complain to Thee, O Lord of Paradise


Where is Khalid, the Hero of Hundred Fights,
And Tarik and Musa, Commanders bright?
No more is Hazrat Ali, with his Zulfiqar!
No more is Umar Khattab, with his Islami fervour!
No more are the soldiers brave and bold
Who had once conquered the entire world!


Where is Hasan, and where is Huseyn?
Where are the heroic Martyrs who gave
Their precious lives for Thy sake?
Where is that fervor of Faith?
And that might and main?
Gone from the orbit of Fate
Is the glorious Crescent!


Only darkness deep and down:
Pervades the horizon!

We are the People Who Once Sacrificed Their Lives

We are the people who once sacrificed their lives

for truth and righteousness.
We brought to this earth equality and fraternity,
We bound her in a bond of friendliness and unity.
From underneath the fiery desert sand

we brought forth cool soothing waters
and quenched the thirst of the sin-ridden universe
We are the people who broke down the walls
that had put the poor below
and the rich above.
We preached the doctrine of equality and love.

Not for the Muslims alone had Islam come.
One who owed allegiance to Allah
and sought truth above all things

was indeed a true Muslim.
We belong to the same people
who once wiped out the difference

between the prince and the pauper.
To us all men are free and equal.
We were the first to liberate the female,
we gave her equal rights with the male.
We demolished the false barriers
that men had built to keep men apart.
We removed the veil

from the face of the night,
and brought to the world the light
of hope and happiness.

[Original: Dharmer pathe shahid jahara; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

We are the People Who Once Sacrificed Their Lives

We are the people who once sacrificed their lives

for truth and righteousness.
We brought to this earth equality and fraternity,
We bound her in a bond of friendliness and unity.
From underneath the fiery desert sand

we brought forth cool soothing waters
and quenched the thirst of the sin-ridden universe
We are the people who broke down the walls
that had put the poor below
and the rich above.
We preached the doctrine of equality and love.

Not for the Muslims alone had Islam come.
One who owed allegiance to Allah
and sought truth above all things

was indeed a true Muslim.
We belong to the same people
who once wiped out the difference

between the prince and the pauper.
To us all men are free and equal.
We were the first to liberate the female,
we gave her equal rights with the male.
We demolished the false barriers
that men had built to keep men apart.
We removed the veil

from the face of the night,
and brought to the world the light
of hope and happiness.

[Original: Dharmer pathe shahid jahara; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

We are the People Who Once Sacrificed Their Lives

We are the people who once sacrificed their lives

for truth and righteousness.
We brought to this earth equality and fraternity,
We bound her in a bond of friendliness and unity.
From underneath the fiery desert sand

we brought forth cool soothing waters
and quenched the thirst of the sin-ridden universe
We are the people who broke down the walls
that had put the poor below
and the rich above.
We preached the doctrine of equality and love.

Not for the Muslims alone had Islam come.
One who owed allegiance to Allah
and sought truth above all things

was indeed a true Muslim.
We belong to the same people
who once wiped out the difference

between the prince and the pauper.
To us all men are free and equal.
We were the first to liberate the female,
we gave her equal rights with the male.
We demolished the false barriers
that men had built to keep men apart.
We removed the veil

from the face of the night,
and brought to the world the light
of hope and happiness.

[Original: Dharmer pathe shahid jahara; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

We are the People Who Once Sacrificed Their Lives

We are the people who once sacrificed their lives

for truth and righteousness.
We brought to this earth equality and fraternity,
We bound her in a bond of friendliness and unity.
From underneath the fiery desert sand

we brought forth cool soothing waters
and quenched the thirst of the sin-ridden universe
We are the people who broke down the walls
that had put the poor below
and the rich above.
We preached the doctrine of equality and love.

Not for the Muslims alone had Islam come.
One who owed allegiance to Allah
and sought truth above all things

was indeed a true Muslim.
We belong to the same people
who once wiped out the difference

between the prince and the pauper.
To us all men are free and equal.
We were the first to liberate the female,
we gave her equal rights with the male.
We demolished the false barriers
that men had built to keep men apart.
We removed the veil

from the face of the night,
and brought to the world the light
of hope and happiness.

[Original: Dharmer pathe shahid jahara; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

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]

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

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

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 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 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 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 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]

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]

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]

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]

The Destitutes

Encircled by the water-waves of suffering the
shoal of quicksand,
O insane! Who built a shack there

with your precious hand?
Lightening reveals a new attitude,
Leave this neighborhood, O destitute!
The flowing tear of motherly cloud

is raining over your head; and
The land over there is calling you,
waving its plants and trees' band.
Your daughters are flood-slaughtered weeping
bitterly,
They are being invited today
by the ocean, motherly.
O boatman! O boatman!
Lift your sail - delay? - no more you can,
Your ride is like a stormy fan,
swinging on the waves of sea.
O boatman! Why more delay?
Lift your anchor, let it be free.
Here in the broken life's span,
your time is almost gone!
Look, your gazelle, O boatman,


eyes at the shore for a new dawn.
Your friends have already begun the voyage,
as the night sets its dark stage,
mat-bound your shoulder's edge,

Don't, any more, live in yawn!
To give up the tie of this bondage,
how much more you need to be overdrawn?
Diamond or jewels, you didn't seek;
Millionaire's rich you didn't cherish;
Your want is of a miserable meek


That's as small as a potter's dish.
You sought to sleep in peace,
And, a small mat, even if torn, apiece,
A lamp offering light's kiss,

A small shack with a door, is what you wish!
Enough of death's hanging shadow, or illness' hiss,
No more burglars stealing your fish.
O boatman, sail your boat now
toward land, ashore.
From the hard soil

let your soft feet be bloodied, like never before!
You will roam around as a storm;
You will traverse through places of soft or rugged form;
Approaching rains, like dance they perform,

as they swirl from the Indus river's floor.
Come on, the riders of water now
to the land that invites you to its door.

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