Nazim Hikmet (b. 15 Jan 1902 — d. 3 Jun 1963) was a Turkish poet, scriptwriter, director and memoirist and his statement which always appeared in lyrical flow gained popularity in 20th century. Most of his work translated into English by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk. His writing most of the time deeply concerned about the view of social and political and few of his verses find woman as an obstacle in career of men. Hikmet also acknowledged publicly that he shouldn't have been married.
Some of his poetry stands out in differentiation of love, which has two repelling sides. He Always appreciated for rhythmic flow of his statements.
In 1930, his definition of realism proved one of the best as following,
“The misery of mankind cannot be seen personal tragedies of the individual. We, writers have to deal with this in particular. Moreover, a person who live through no personal tragedies, who does not suffer for personal reasons cannot possibly suffer for the misery of mankind. And such a thing is not possible in actual conditions of the world. It would be artificial to introduce such a character in a literary work.”
Nazim received many criticisms not only from homeland but also from abroad. His romantic poetry has opposition sides. According to Hikmet there is much difference between Love in Theory and Love in traditionally. The theoretic love has human solidarity thus traditional love depicted as obstacle to inspiration of poet. His thoughts mostly focussed on the love of universe and kind people of the planet.
In one of his poems, addressed to his second wife Piraye during he was jailed in Bursa Prison. He wrote to his wife that all the humans on this earth have the same love story like you and me but ours is not that harsh.
They have taken us prisoner.They have locked up. Me inside the walls, you outside the walls, but that is nothing. The most is when man carriesknowingly, or not the prison inside him. Most people have been madeto live like this. Honest, hard-working,good people who chosen to be loved as much as I love you
People out there had more harsh treatment than the couple (poet) had in their life but those are carrying prisons inside them. Nazim directed his poem of love and showed many concerns about them. While in jail, he wrote a letter to his wife.
Poem: “Letter to my wife” by Nazim Hikmet
My one and only your letter says:
“My head is throbbing, my heart is stunned!”
You say: “If they hadn't you,
if I lose you, I'll die!” You'll live,
my dear- My memory will vanish like black smoke in the wind.
Of course, you'll live, red-haired lady of my heart:
In the twentieth century, grief lasts at most a year.
Death — A body swinging from a rope.
My heart can't accept such a death.
But you can bet if some poor gypsy's hairy black spidery hand slips a noose around my neck,
they'll twilight of my last morning I will see my friends and you,
and I'll go to my grave regretting nothing but an unfinished song.
My wife. Good-hearted, Golden, Eyes sweeter than honey — my bee.
Why did I write you do they want to hang me?
The trial has hardly begun, and they don't just pluck A man's head like turnip.
Look, forget all this.
If you have any money, buy me some flannel underwear
My sciatica is acting up again. And don't forget,
A prisoner's wife must always think good thoughts.
This poem circulates a warm, deep feeling of love and the poet showed no fears. And someone could call it the power of love. Nazim don’t want his wife to do suicide. He convinced his wife that grief lasts a year, hardly in this twentieth century. This poem at the end give us good message to those wives of prisoners who are feeble hearted. It is a booster of long-lasting love and care.
“Sergei Yesenin proved that despite having bad habits (heavy drinking and outburst publicly), his soul was clean. When any man tired of living human life and want to go away from depression, die is not new. All that defined in his last poem before he committed suicide.”
Young Yesenin in 1912
His full name was Sergei Yesenin (b. 3 Oct, 1895 –d. 28 Dec 1925) was a popular poet of 20s from Russia. Even with his writings, he was a kind of guy who could light up the room by his appearance and impressive nature of his style. Moreover, this was the man that lady could easily arouse by his presence. However, being a constant drinker and outburst publicly was his regular nature. At the age of 19, he published his first poetry book “Beryoza” (The Birch Tree) in 1914 was popular among the children. The poetry lover used to described him as “A Gem of a peasant poet”. Below, the last poem of Yesenin was written with his blood before he hanged himself (his death story is not true nor confirmed as a suicide recital).
Farewell, my good friend, farewell. In my heart, forever, you’ll stay. May the fated parting foretell That again we’ll meet up someday. Let no words, no handshakes ensue, No saddened brows in remorse, – To die, in this life, is not new, And living’s no newer, of course.
Still, his one of the poems tells us how a young woman of a village in mid-summer gives birth to a baby. It travels to emotion that awaken us into a series of joyous feelings. Also, this poem had written in 1912 and was translated into English in 1982
Poem: "Barefoot" by Sergei Yesenin
Barefoot on Midsummer Eve in the forest yonder Mother went with skirt tucked up in the dew to wander. Her bare feet were stung by herbs blessed with magic power, In the meadow grass she wept, painful was that hour. Suddenly, she cried aloud, pain her body shaking, Down she lay and on the spot gave birth to a baby. I was born to sound of song, meadow grass tucked around me. In a rainbow bright the sun every morning bound me. Child of rural summer rites I grew wiser, bolder. Magic-making eventide happiness foretold me […]
The suicide story of Yesenin is still an unsolved matter of conflict. His work was banned in the country for many years.
Judith Wright (b.31 May 1915 — d.25 June 2000), the lover of nature, poet from Australia who gave and maintained quality, consistency and distinctiveness in her writings. She had obtained degrees in Philosophy and Psychology. “Moving Image” was first published in 1946, her poetry which got many appreciations. In her most of the poetry, give a tang of silence, quietness of nature, river, birds and springs etc. From it, we already get a clue that how deep she was in love with nature. Judith had fathomless regard for the environment, and was also one of the founding members of Wildlife Preservation Society of Queensland.
“We Are Hungry For More; If We Do Not Consciously Pursue The More, We Create Less For Ourselves And Make It More Difficult To Experience More In Life”
Judith Wright
Wright later published her short story “The Nature Of Love” She had special attachment to wildlife, environment and aboriginal things. She also had achieved Christopher Brennan Award (The Christopher Brennan Award is an Australian award given for lifetime achievement in poetry) in the year 1976 and Nobel Prize for her literature. Read her beautiful poem from her first publication for which she also had received numerous recognition.
“Northern River” by Judith Wright
When summer days grow harsh my thoughts return to my river, fed by white mountain springs, beloved of the shy bird, the bell-bird, whose cry is like falling water. O knighted with the green vine, lit with the rock-lilies, the river speaks in the silence, and my heart will also be quiet. Where your valley grows wide in the plains they have felled the trees, wild river. Your course they have checked, and altered your sweet Alcaic metre. Not the grey kangaroo, deer-eyed, timorous, will come to your pools at dawn; but their tamed and humbled herds will muddy the watering places. Passing their roads and cities you will not escape unsoiled. But where, grown old and weary, stagnant among the mangroves, you hope no longer — there on a sudden with a shock like joy, beats up the cold clean pulse of the tide, the touch of the sea in greeting; the sea that encompasses all sorrow and all delight and holds the memories of every stream and river.
Saint Kabir Das, a mystical soul of the 15th century who had spent his early life in a Muslim family. His followers claimed that he was born in womb from a widow and his mother left Kabir alone in the universe (as to escape her from the bruising of people and society) thus, the Muslim family of Kabir was his second parents.
However, this is a real traditional story of his birth. Das was born in Varanasi, one of the holy lands on the earth and exact date of birth is under conflicts. His quoted lines and saying are popular. The saint Kabir was one of the famous saint like Guru Nanak.
Thus, his followers in India called Kabir Panthis, they are occupied northern and central part of India. Despite his mystical powers, he was a great poet and writer. His writing includes, Bijak Sakhi (Novel), Kabir Granthwali and Anurag Sagar.
However, his early life from Muslim community, his verses and writings mostly influenced Bhakti of Hindu and Sikh religions. His spiritual teacher, Ramananda (his poems and writings found in Guru Granth Sahib), he was very influential saint and his teachings were rapidly grown in the north India.
He was also caught in the lane of a bay of criticized people for being negative on part of women. According to Kabir, women is Black Cobra, The pit of hell and prevents spiritual growth of man.
His poetry shed lights especially on karma of human and its fruit.
Few learnings from verses of Kabir Das (his verses are in Hindi and this is meanings of what Kabira says)
Some try reading spiritual books, novel day and night to become a saint but did not turn up into a saint. We also have to adapt and change our inners that is called inner engineering. And those who turned into saint they talk few words in a lovely tone (here Kabir has given importance to love).
When you have a God and Teacher in front of you to whom you will choose? Kabir says, teacher you are great, you teach us reasons of how to find God.
God, I don't want much property money and fame. Give me only enough to feed my family and any guest visit us should not leave empty stomach.
Your love and wishes never dies nor your heart gets fulfilled. Only body dies but never hope and desire.
Everyone prayer God in bad times, later nobody bothers to take his even names in good times. Do prayers in good times and never let bad days knock the door again.
One of his poem हीरा सोई सराहिये (Sleeping Diamond Appreciates) by Saint Kabir Das
Only the diamond is praiseworthy who shines after bearing the blows of the hammer.
The fraud and deceptive men especially the ones who try to behave smarter than others. They always found cruel when tested. Few who pass testing conditions successfully are truly praiseworthy ones.
You should show your intelligence only to those people who can understand it. It is idiocy to show your intelligence to idiots.
While most of the people care about how to look, intelligence. Ones can recognize a real gem even when it doesn't look good. (e.g., when a diamond soiled and it only looks like a stone).
हीरा सोई सराहिये सहे घनन की चोट कपट को रंगे मानवा परखत निकरा खोट
हीरा तहाँ ना खोलिये जहाँ कुंजड़ों की हाट सहजे गाँठि बाँधी के लगिये अपनी बात हीरा सोई सराहिये…
हीरा परा बाजार में रहा छार लपटाय केतिहे मूरख पची मुए कोई पारखी लिया उठाय हीरा सोई सराहिये…
Sheldon Alan Silverstein (b. 25 Sep 1930ㅡd. 10 May 1999) was not only a great cartoonist but also a gifted hub of heart touching poems. He wrote fantastic poetry for children besides adults also keep on reading. But main importantly, today’s generation are still in love for his writings and drawings.
Being an Artist, Poet and Chicagoan, he was not just confined to his neighbours, states and his country but also his work travelled miles and published in many languages (more than 30 languages are the witness as on today). His book, “Where The Side Walk Ends”, is one of the famous. Thus, it was an actual world had begun for Silverstein.
Shel Silverstein
Those days Shel’s cartoons were on cloud nine that Pacific Stars and Strips approached him and started working together. Nobody could say that military a man possess the heart of stones (they also could produce fun-loving poems that won the hearts of millions of kids and students of 19’s). It proved that a cadet can be also melted on feelings. In the year 1957, ex-military man had become one of the leading cartoonists in Playboy magazine. His one of the famous books in the 1950 “Now Here is My Plan” had become best knows cartoon collection of the year.
Shel’s below quote is truly inspiring one that makes mankind think positively. However, It ended in the moral of karma that reflects like a mirror result. The man is equally responsible in contribution of the result of his karma. He gets the same thing in return what he had given to the human, animals or to the universe.
“How many slams in an old screen door? It depends on how loud you shut it. How many slices in bread? It depends on how thin you cut it. How much good inside a day? It depends on how good you live 'em. How much love inside a friend? It depends on how much you give 'em.”
Shel Silverstein
His one of the famous poem, If You were only one inches tall is the most recognizable and one of his popular works. The poem takes us to those memories when we had an under-developing brain. We just got then a thought to mimic or act like our friends and family members. Heading to school need a ride and Shel’s advice and thoughts make us remembers especially this poem.
When a kind just finish learning walking, feel the urge for swimming and when a small stomach feels no weight of a big cake that sweet soul wants to eat without breaks. The artistic mind of Silverstein awesomely placed the verity of worlds sequentially that evoke the feelings in the natural way. It travels and explores the nook of every poetry lovers.
Poem: "If You Were One Inches Long" by Shel Silverstein
If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school. The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool. A crumb of cake would be a feast And last you seven days at least, A flea would be a frightening beast If you were one inch tall, If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door, And it would take about a month to get down to the store. A bit of fluff would be your bed, You'd swing upon a spider's thread, And wear a thimble on your head If you were one inch tall, You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum. You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb. You'd run from people's feet in fright, To move a pen would take all night, (This poem took fourteen years to write-- 'Cause I'm just one inch tall).
Sarojini Naidu (b. 13 Feb 1879 — d. 2 March 1949) was a not only Indian political leader, activist but also a great poet as well as a woman of India and celebrated nationally. She was one of the key figures of the Indian independence movement. Naidu aimed to help diminish the ruling of the British in India during the years of 1912 to 1947. A prominent follower of Mahatma Gandhi and his cultural ideology not only like a true and obedient student. But also full supportive to Gandhi in all the aspects in decision-making to forming a better India.
The brilliant student who used to keep many expectations from herself and Indian
Sarojini Naidu
Education of Sarojini Naidu
Her education was not only limited to Indian territory but also crossed the boundary of the country at the age of 16. It was Nizam’s Charitable Trust(founder — Nizam Mahbub Ali Khan) who gave her a chance to complete her studies in England.
Sarojini was well worse with the culture of India and the condition of the nation at the beginning. A philosophic mind used to keep her eyes awake for the good reasons of the nation and its benefits. She had a successful inter-caste marriage which was happily approved by both the families.
Sarojini had a successive three years of travelling, while she visited different regions of India during 1915 and 1918. The motive of the travel was to give auspicious lectures on social welfare, the emancipation of women and bringing the clear awareness of the future of independence. And further evolution of nationalism in every person of India.
Her lectures were so demanding similarly inspiring ones that anyone could get motivated like she could yield a fruit of success from the brain of foolish and ignorance. In short, her thought process was so simple and easily recognizable in one of her poems, In The Bazaars of Hyderabad.
“The Bazaars of Hyderabad" by Sarojini Naidu
What do you sell, oye Marchant? Richly your wares are displayed. Turbans of crimson and Silver Mirrors with panels of amber, Daggers with handles of jade What do you weigh, oye Vendors Saffron and lentil and rice What do you grind oye maidens? Sandalwood, henna, and spice. What do you call oye Pedlars? Chessmen and ivory dice. What do you make oye Goldsmith? Wristlet, anklet, and ring. Bells for the feet of blue pigeons, Frail as a Dragon’s-fly’s wing, girdles of gold for the dancers, Scabbards of gold for the king [...]
The Bird of Time(available on Amazon): Songs of Life, Death, and the Spring are her fine collections of poems. This antiquarian volume contains a complete manual of the art of angling for roach, with comments on methodology, equipment, tactics, and other information useful.
Maharashtra’s legend Annabhau Sathe and his literature have always been recommendable. One of the top Dalit activists from the state after iconic figure Dr Babasaheb Ambedkar and Jyotiba Phule.
As well as, Sathe was one of the founding members of “Lal Bawta Kalapathak”. Tukaram Bhaurao Sathe (was his real full name) wrote almost 35 novels in Marathi, 14 short stories, and many to count his real meanings of life stated poems achieved many Maharashtra’s poem loving hearts.
Annabhau Sathe on Cast & Untouchability
A young brain had quickly understood the Untouchable Matang caste in the state and brought literacy love in Dalit Literature(buy his famous work in Marathi is available on Amazon here). His songs and poetry lightened up the poor Dalit Community and taught lessons to the oppressive gang and their community.
A Quote by Annabhau Sathe
Caste is something that exists in reality. Poverty is artificial, and it can be destroyed but destroying caste is everyone's work.
Annabhau Sathe
Dalit Shahirs of Maharashtra
Dalit shahirs of Maharashtra: Annabhau Sathe's powerful song, one of his favorite poems “माझी मैना गावावर राहिली !” (“My mynah bird stayed in the village!”)
Poem
“माझी मैना गावावर राहिली !”(“My mynah bird left in the village!”)
माझी मैना गावावर राहिली | माझ्या जिवाची होतिया काहिली || ओतीव बांधा | रंग गव्हाला | कोर चंद्राची | उदात्त गुणांची | मोठ्या मनाची | सीता ती माझी रामाची | हसून बोलायची | मंद चालायची | सुगंध केतकी | सतेज कांती | घडीव पुतली सोन्याची | नव्या नवतीची | काडी दवन्याची |रेखीव भुवया | कमान जणू इन्द्रधनुची | हिरकणी हिरयाची काठी आंधल्याची | तशी ती माझी गरीबाची| मैना रत्नाची खाण | माझा जिव की प्राण |[…]
He thus expressed the reality of the rich and well-educated city, Mumbai. It was the same treatment he used to get in his village. Besides, this poem ends, leaving a spark in his life for forming a United Maharashtra (a mission of anti-oppression in Maharashtra). Therefore, he successfully carried out.
Uddhav Thackeray, Chief Minister of Maharashtra, said,
A memorial of Marathi poet and writer Annabhau Sathe will soon be built-in Mumbai.
Mr ShamsurRahman, who was irregularly graduated in literature, a poetic soul who did wonder in his era. His poetic ink wrote many soul-touching songs. The great Rahman was a Bangladeshi prolific writer and a journalist. Once upon a time, he had not given exams for his three years degree program (Literature).
He was an avid reader and a poet. Mr Rahman wrote his first poem at the age when he was eighteen. His life had a memorable U turned that transformed his life and made him more professional when he had read Golpo Guccho(available on Amazon) by Rabindranath Tagore (The book is a collection of 95 Short Stories which are most popular.).
Urdu critic, Shamsur had completed successfully his gradation in English literature from the University of Dhaka. Despite being a lover of his native language, he wrote poetry in English. He wrote many influential articles and considered one of the key figures in Bengali literature.
He was the one who took the literature of his country to a different level of geographically. Most of the articles were based on secularism, his finest labour of writing earned many awards and recognitions ( Bangla academy in 1969, Ekunshey Pavdak in 1977, Swadhinata Award in 1991, and many others…) Sometimes his poem takes us into sweet childhood memories, or sometimes it gives better understandings of life. His poem Asad’s shirt is one of those which brings back our childhood reminders.
Poem: "Asad's Shirt" by Shamsur Rahman
Like bunches of blood-red Oleander, like flaming clouds at sunset, Asad’s shirt flutters In the gusty wind, in the limitless blue. To the brother’s spotless shirt, His sister had sown With the fine gold thread Of her heart’s desire Buttons which shone like stars; How often had his ageing mother, With such tender care, Hung that shirt out to dry In her sunny courtyard. Now that self-same shirt Has deserted the mother’s courtyard, Adorned by bright sunlight And the soft shadow’[…] The Devotee, The Combatant: Selected.
Poems of Shamsur Rahman (Bengali Literature in English) is available on Amazon. He is the author of more than 80 volumes of poetry.
Miss Gertrude Himmelfarb called The Great Historian of the Victorian Era. She crossed the country and explored England’s streets and found the “Idea of Poverty”.
Gertrude Himmelfarb (b. 8 Aug 1922–30 Dec 2019) was a great conservative historian, studied deep on intellectual history, and a Ph.D. (history) holder from the University of Chicago in 1950. Miss Himmelfarb allowed herself to dive focusing Britain and Victorian Era, The Queen Victoria’s reign, culture and society. The one who brought the real history and culture of Britain in front of the 20th century. Gertrude often called a great historian of the period, was born in New York City but her thoughts made her travel to miles away finding hidden cultures and history of England, drag herself into the Victorian Era.
Himmelfarb had married to great Irving Kristol (b. 22 Jan 1920–18 Sep 2019), one of the popular journalists, editors, and a godfather to the greatest political movement, Neoconservatism. He was also the founder of Many magazines. The most discussed figure on cultural politics often in the middle of the 20th century. Upon marrying a successful man, she did not change her last name (Himmelfarb).
A famous sociologist, editor and writer who was a professor at Harvard University, Daniel Bell wrote “Best marriage of our generation”
Leading life of Gertrude Himmelfarb
The woman with well-settled life crossed the country and made her fine jump picking up her spading fork to evolve day by day and brought the history of Britain on the book “Idea of Poverty” It captured the discussions of the great people’s thinking, 17th to 18th and later middle of 19th century.
The Idea of Poverty has stories of labouring people who depended on charity, donation, and some of them were orphans too. Exploring the economy that profit poor, a legislative authority that could bring food, educations, and support them financially through subsidies schemes. There were no democratic laws, but an Ira of Queen Victoria. There was a motive for stabilizing the economy that could benefit everyone from it.
The well-known fact of any country not in the early century only but the current too. The expansion of the industrial economy creates an equal opportunity to become a wealthy nation. The ultimate product is the only happiness and comfort of low caste society.
It is a fact that a wealthy country has been contributed to an increase in an enormous population. This fact is not from advanced education but it’s stated by the old studies. The most populated country, China is in its first place and followed by India in second. They were rich in their early days.
Miss Himmelfarb explored such kinds of theories by digging deep by cultural and historical shots. Her determination proved in the book, Idea of Poverty (it is available on Amazon). Some credit also goes to her beloved husband expanding views of poverty in England. She was a Teacher of the Free and Virtuous Society, and Miss Himmelfarb once called A Jewish Woman (it covers her life span in short).
[David McGrogan: This was my first encounter with Himmelfarb, and I was deeply impressed by the breadth and depth of scholarship in this book, which sets for itself the daunting task of accounting for how it was that “poverty” came to be seen as a problem for society or government to attempt to solve, rather than a mere fact of life as it had been thought of before the 18th century. There is something almost Foucauldian about the project, and I was amused to find American conservatism reflecting French post-stru …more]
Her arguments that a little more virtuousness trumps any number of government social programs made her a hero to some and a bête noire to others.
Read, Cornelius who found first selfie fad for the world and HarveyMilk who Gave Us Hope, Unashamed And Unafraid
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The Rebel poem written by Kazi Nazrul Islam (b. 25 May 1899-aug 29, 1976) had multirhythmic patriotic Bangladeshi nerves that transformed him into the most poetic soul ever. He has written almost 400 songs.
People are so moved by the Rebel poem that the author was given the moniker "Rebel Poet"
The Rebel poem was so moved that the poet was given the title "Rebel Poet" (Bidrohi Kobi) for his love. Also, it transformed him from a British soldier to a poet. Therefore, he went to jail many times when he joined the Indian independence movement. The most remarkable poem he had written is The Rebel (available on Amazon).
It includes the greatness of his rebellious thoughts, which trigger the minds of readers and inspire revolutionary thoughts. Reading the Rebel poem, a piece of Nobel work brings much strength, and one could emerge with the qualities of an unbeatable leader.
The Rebel poem Kazi Nazrul Islam
The poets Kazi Islam and Patric Pearse used emotional and rebellious words in this poem (like hurricane, tears, sun, galaxy, planets, universe, etc.). However, Kazi Nazrul Islam had served as a Muezzin (a man who calls Muslims to prayer from the minaret of a mosque).
Thus, Patrick Pearse, also known as Patrick Henry Pearse, was an Irish educator, barrister, poet, writer, nationalist, republican political activist, and revolutionary. Who was one of the leaders of the Easter Rising in 1916 (… Wikipedia) seems like both have worked hard to produce the poem. The pickings of the most critic words were the first-ever work of labour by duo stands at its in prime.
The poem rebel is such a long, and thus it gradually evoke patriotic feelings.
The Rebel Poem by Kazi Islam
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 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 forever!
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 the 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 wildfire,
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 a 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 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 glance 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 wandering 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 thrilling 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 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 wildfire 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 a 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 battlefields are cleared of jingling bloody sabers
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! […]
[The poetry has been translated by the great essayist Kabir Chowdhury]
