Kazi Nazrul Islam

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

Ting-A-Ling, Ting-A-Ling, Ting-A-Ling, - Poem by Kazi Nazrul Islam

Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling,
Who goes there stepping over the date leaves
Raising a melodious jingling?
Her scarf flutters in the dancing wind,
Her steps scatter flowers on the rocky road.
As she trips gaily on
Her arched eyebrows sparkle like a sword,
And her feet kick tiny stones
Scattering them like a jewelled necklace.

She is pretty as the peach blossoms,
And even the young Eid-moon is in love with her.
It pines for her rosy cheeks.
She is a, mirage and a vision rare
Many a prince riding an Arab mare
Sought her in vain in Sahara's desert sands.
For her many a young traveller
Lost their lives in strange, far-off lands.
And, lured by her haunting charm,
Died, many a forest deer.

[Original: Rum jhum jhum jhum; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 30, 2012

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