Kazi Nazrul Islam

(24 May 1899 - 29 August 1976 / Bardhaman / India)

The Ecstasy Of Destruction - Poem by Kazi Nazrul Islam

Come, make merry and rejoice.
There rages the summer storm
flying the flag of the New and the Young,

There comes he who had not come so long;
Dancing merrily
drink we will the joy of destruction.
There comes the Terrible
like the fierce executioner of eternal time
across the dark well of death
through smouldering smoke
lighting the torch of thunder.
There, listen to his ringing laughter.
Come, make merry and rejoice!

The wavy locks of his hair
make the sky rock and swing.
Even the ominous comet is at his service.
His blood, like an unsheathed sword,
rocks the bosom of the father of the universe.
Look, this wild tumultuous tunnoil
has made the sky and the earth still and numb
Come, make merry and rejoice.

A dozen suns glitter and shine in his burning eyes
And the sorrows of the world cluster in his
tangled and disheveled hair.
A single dropp of his tear
makes the seven seas roll and swell.
In his giant arms he crakles the mother-earth
and cries out, 'Welcome, Destruction! '
Come, comrades, make merry and rejoice, '

Oh, have no fear!
The deluge will soon overtake the universe.
The final hour is fast drawing near.
The rotting old and the dying decrepit
will now be wiped out for good.
Now at last at the end of the long night of darkness
The glorious dawn will come with a smile
in her soft and tender dress.
Look, there the young moon shines in his unkempt hair.

Its light will fill your room
and make it glow with a strange radiance,
Come, make merry and rejoice!
There he comes flashing his whip of blood and lightning,
directing the passage of eternity.
The neighing of his horse reverberates in the stormy wind
and in the song of thunder.
The blast of his hoofs hits the stars
and scatters them shooting
through the columns of the blue-domed sky.
The gods are all lying in the dead well
of a dark dungeon.

They are tied to the cold stony pillar
of the sacriticial altar.
Indeed this is the time for him
to come triumphantly riding his gorgeous chariot.
O comrades, come, make merry and rejoice!
Why should the sight of destruction frighten you?
All this upheaval is but the birth pain
of a new creation.
There comes the bold new youth
eager to wipe out all that is ugly and decayed.
He comes with' his unkempt hair and careless dress
on the wings of the Deluge
with a smile on his lips.
He is the eternal beauty
who knows how to destroy and build again,

Come, make merry and rejoice!
What fear has he
for whom all this destruction and rebuilding
is but a game?
Come, make merry and rejoice,
and welcome the Beautiful
who comes today in the garb of the Terrible.

[Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Poem Edited: Tuesday, May 29, 2012

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