Kazi Nazrul Islam (24 May 1899 - 29 August 1976 / Bardhaman / India)
Thy forlorn child covered with the dust
of this Earth doth cry for redress,..
Give him a reply, Lord, the Original Father!
With the sad light of my eyes I wander
about Thy Creation.,
The little I see fills me with wonder
and my whole heart becomes full to the brim
So Good art Thou? So much dost
Thou love? So Sublime art Thou?
God, O god?
How beautiful is Thy Creation
How noble is it, Father'?
Yet sitting at the head of the Creation
dost Thou weep like an anxious
Mother! It seems as if Thou hast
no rest, no happiness!
Now destroying and creating, now
creating and destroying and
anxious ever, ever and ever -
Thou hast covered the sky with a canopy
of diamond - lest our eyes should be
troubled by the heat of the sun
The breeze doth blow to cool our body
tormented by the sun,
Lord, 0 Lord!
The sun, moon and stars, at Dawn and
Dusk, proclaim Thy Ordinance ~
'This Day and Night, Sky and Air are
meant for no particular individuals
the wealth of this world -
Fragrant flowers, sweet ambrosial
fruits, balmy earth, necter-like
water, Birds' Songs, -
Each and all of them is and are
the common heritage of all mankind,
and this is Divine 'Firman'-
God, O God! It was Thy Divine Will to create Men
with white or yellow or black complexion,
We are black and Thou knowest
well that it is no disgrace
Thou hast not said that in the white
Island alone, the sun and moon will
shine and the white nation dominate
all the rest; it is indeed not Thy Decree!
Thy own Children today transgress Thy
Lord, O lord!
Thy gift of dust and earth went to
Earth, Thy Youngest daughter
With that she hoids a cup of milk
to her children.
Spreading the wings like a Peacock
Her joy doth go round -
Her children are not happy, they are
greedy, they are Satanic!
Actuated by animosity they cut
one another, they plant barriers everyday.
God, O God!
Ousting Thee from Thy Seat there
doth sit the greedy,
His avarice hath converted the
fruitful luxuriant Earth into
a barren, dreary desert.
Seated on a throne of Sand, the King
of a day pursues a relentless,
repressive policy, which doth but
make his own throne give way
and prepare a grave yard!
By snatching away food from the
mouth of a brother, he becomes a hero.
O Lord, O Lord!
They call him 'Mohajan' who sucks
like the leech the blood of people,
They are not landholders who look
after the lands like their children,
Those who set not their foot on earth
become the owners of earth -
the more one is a hypocrite, the more
a cheat, the greater is one's influence!
Every day the butcher makes a new
knife and parades his scientific intention.
God, a God!
The greatness of a nation is measured by
the extent of its resources for unlawful war,
Seven great warriors killed a boy
and the shameless heroes brag of it!
O Shame! Thy divine disc is today
overpowered by the silver-wheel of
a commercial class!
O Thou Most Glorious! Why dost Thou
put up with such wrong! The suffering
humanity can bear no more, this
injustice shall not be tolerated'
Lord, a Lord!
Hark, the war-cry on all sides!
There's no fear! From the mouth of
the dying comet the cry
'Kill, Kill! '
Whatever blood was there has been
sucked; let the bloodless body
now fight with bones -
The bones that a hundred centuries
Could not smash now sing aloud
'Three cheers for suffering humanity,
Hip, Hip, Hurrah! ! !
Three cheers for New order,
Hip, Hip, Hurrah! ! !
Victory to Thee, a Lord!
This gift of Thine, this multitudinous
Earth we all will enjoy,
There's a flesh and blood relation between
this Earth and the day of Creation'
With fresh flowers and fruits in both hands
the Earth goes round every house,
Who is such a robber as will steal
the paddy of my granary?
In the food of my hunger I feel
the fragrance of my life -
After all, O God!
Who are they that fly airplanes and
hurl bombs from the sky from which
descents Thy gift in the shape of
light and rain?
Who do now convert the serene sky
and air into a wilderness of terror?
Whose cannons like sentinels surround
and guard Thy limitless space?
Will truth not be free of the demon?
Is there no remedy?
God, O God!
Whose fetters corrode the God-gifted
hands'? Whose tyrannical laws ban
my freedom of movement? Subject
to hunger and thirst, I own a life,
I too am a man, I too am sublime!
This tongue of mine is under my control,
this straight neck, too! I have
broken the fetters of my mind, I
am hurt by the fetters of my hands now,
After all, O God!
The ever-humbled now raise their heads
high into the sky, the-imprisoned
shatter their chains to pieces and
pull down the prison walls!
After long, today they like the sky,
air and light of Heaven,
The captive now understand that
liberty is sweeter than life. In spontaneous
notes one voice rises in the liberated
world - 'Victory to suffering humanity,
Victory to the New campaign,
Victory to the New order! '
[Translation: Abdul Hakim]
Comments about this poem (Complaint by Kazi Nazrul Islam )
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