The communists are not the simple men to be taken simply,
I mean, they are hardcore ideologues,
I mean, thinktanks
Doing the chintan baithaka,
Thinking, meeting and thinking,
Thinking as to how to spread Marxist ideology
After distributing pamphlets,
The photos of Marx, Lenin, Stalin and Mao,
The People's Paper,
In the form of the speeches delivered basing on the haves and have-nots.
You are poor as they have kept you, as they have exploited you,
Your labour they are materializing into,
The factory is yours
As the labour belongs to you
And it cannot run if you are not there,
The owner is just a capitalist,
Lock the factory out,
Ask him to compromise with your union leader
And the unionist will not work,
But he will take his salary.
The people from the Red Brigade, I mean the Red Fort,
The Reds Reddening it all,
Seeing Marx in all,
History, culture, class, society, ethics, morality,
The same Mark and Marxist literature
In history, political science, philosophy, economics and literature,
Giving the same stereotype philosophy
As how to divide and rule
And the comrades the sepoys, judges, councillors, counsellors, reporters,
Delegates, clerks, writers, resource persons and seminarians,
Do communism and enjoy the bliss of paradise.
Go not to office, do unionism, staying away from, strengthen the organization,
The mother organization,
Do politics at the grassroots level,
Connect man to man, make a human chain,
Village to village, do a village to village padayatra,
But spread communism,
Even though have to support love marriages,
Let them love and marry,
As the young and the lovers will be better comrades if help and oblige you.
The communists are but the marked fellow, disciplined and organized,
Ready to overthrow,
Hatching a plot, planning for fall,
Heckling and harassing and ragging
To make him quit the throne
And flee away,
Hard-hearted Marxists, Leninists and Stalinists,
Making you mad,
Dividing your family.
Reading the People's Paper sleep they,
Reading the People's Paper awake they,
Sleep they in the Party Office,
Awake they in the Party Office,
A shrewd party man,
Always doing party and politics,
Doing petty politics, hatching a plot.
The Red Brigade, the Red Bastion, the Red Fort,
The Reds gone berserk, went on a rampage,
The comrades and cadres,
Handing power to workers and labourers
And doing politics through the transfer of power.
The cadres are but recruited comrades,
Regimenting and registering them with badges
As for volunteers and delegates
And the Marxists lecturing,
Camp, live and picknick
And be schooled in,
The zonal and local secretaries holding in,
Levying upon the govt employees
And through subscriptions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
any ideologues, really.