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The neglected turned fire to burn;
The castle of deception falls down!
Coal starts blazing,
The flame as torch
with a blast of wind
assaults on darkness!
The night of depressed ages flashed,
It’s the festival of Nushoor* —
Cracking the graves,
the dead
awake from slumber!
Forest trees clatter!
These are the storms
never run over,
These are the lightnings
that never fell,
The clouds with deep sound
never surrounded!
The angry horizon gnashing its teeth
crackle with thunder!
With the roaring voice of the united masses,
Airy mountains of exploiters
turn down into ashes,
in the society new!
Built in air,
all vindictive castles
reduced to dust,
and rooted out
easily!
This is fire
that can’t be buried under the layers of snow,
never be put out
by the fast flowing water of streams!
As long as
remains darkness on the earth —
the rich like bugs
continue to suck the blood of the poor!
And every street
will echo
the dreadful laughter of ghost,
till then!
Leaving the sheets of stones,
Lofty forehead
Abundant power
With firm faith
the dormant, motionless
holds the weapon for assault!
All false pride is no more now,
Worthless, incapable, vigour-lost all sunk!
Now the dreadful night,
afraid of light
became fallow lucent less!
Powerful caravan of new lustre started out,
The darkness falls into pieces at each step!
We will awake,
till — this hindered door is not opened!
The blood in veins will simmer,
till the class difference and caste malevolence
is rooted out!
* According to Islamic mythology a festive day when dead bodies will come out alive from the graves. |
