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Kazi Nazrul Islam: Poems

The ecstasy of creation

Today I thrill in the ecstasy of creation -
I smile, my eyes glitter,
And my blood revels with effervescent splendour
In the ecstasy of my creation. 
That which was stagnant within this cave
Has been today forced open amongst the shattering waves!
Came laughter, there came tears,
Came freedom, there came binds,
My voice is rent, my heart is rent,
And bitter elation there is sent,
All for this tragic heart is meant,
In the ecstasy of my creation.
I became pensive, I became dejected,
Without creation I sighed reflective,
Then the seas began to foam, there was heavenly expansion,
And piercing the sky came the spear of inspiration.
It is a comet that burns,
And the order of creation it overturns,
And as I watch a million flowers bloom in my foundation,
In the ecstasy of my creation.
Even the fire exults, and Spring breathes ruddy,
And Madan flings his arrow bloody.
The flowers of Spring themselves are overwhelmed,
When colour sweeps the four world-ends,
And glows more bright than the yellow-clad maid.
Today there is colour all across my flushed existence
In the ecstasy of creation.
This day I seize the weapon of wile
The beauteous maidens to beguile.
They have the blood-stained feet of Kali,
Though respected, tearful, affectionate, warmly.
I have the words to unlock the feminine heart.
I sound this melodious flute to them, and my tears start,
In the ecstasy of my creation.
Today has come the dusk, the dawn,
The near, the far, the resounding rhythm that overcomes all form,
In mad, ecstatic poesy.
The autumn comes, the flowers drop,
The wintry dew smiles from the blade-top,
In furious, creative ecstasy.  
The ocean awakes, the desert rejoices today,
The wide earth shudders, and the forests sway.
A world-devouring storm invades,
While the melody of destruction everywhere pervades.
On my left there lies the decrepit dead,
And on my right the new born babe.
My soul gallops unbound like a wild horse unleashed
In the ecstasy of my creation!
In the ecstasy of my creation!!

Translation: Shaheen Daad

 (Original: Az Srishti Shukher Ullashe)

Azan: The call

When I am preoccupied with nothing in particular, rather with misdeed;
I don't think much, what I was or what I am going to be in future, indeed.
Weaving the net of fascination in the blackboard of my vision,
the fatal desires keep sucking on the young blood with vampire's precision..
Quite knowingly I am moving, with every step I take,
toward the bottom pit that we must avoid for our own sake.
Right then I wake up at the commanding Azan from far,
God is the greatest! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!
Whether I understand it or not, yet in my heart
a deep feeling of bewilderment keeps me restless and agitated in part.
This call, so special, makes this heart and mind wander,
A sense of loneliness and alienation keeps swirling as I ponder.
The heart only knows the kind of pain it is, I can't put it in word,
Yet a sense of loneliness and alienation that is so mysterious and demurred.
We have to leave this beautiful world to a destination who knows how far,
God is the greatest - listen to that call - Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar!
O this bewildering, soul-robbing call, so holy and pure,
mysteriously grabs my devotion, my knee bends unsure..
In my chest I feel the stream of a wild water-cascade,
during the awakening dawn and when the light at the sunset begins to fade.
During the blinding light of midday and the comforting easterly breeze of the afternoon,
Or during the restful night the fragrance, O Azan, you emit - with or without moon.
Just in case, we, the needy earthlings, neglect the work of our Master,
That's why you keep calling to awaken us five times a day, as our life moves faster and faster..
Whenever I fail to respond to even one such call,
My heart agitates in regret and rushes like a waterfall.
You are there, O Azan, so Islam is still awake and alive,
Despite our wave of negligence, it continues to survive and revive..
O pure! O so deep! O so heart-robbing call!
O the Azan, may your trumpet keep us awake, me and all.
Until the trumpet of Israfeel plays the doomsday's tune,
O Azan, please continue your hearty call in this world of so much misfortune.

Translation : Mohammad Omar Farooq
(Original: Azan )