Telangana

Kaifi Azmi
(Source: Awara Sajdey, poetry collection of Kaifi Azmi)
(Translation from Urdu: Arjumand Ara)

Elderly Mothers, young sisters are raising their heads,
drying up their teary eyelashes in the blazing fire of their eyes;
Turning their blood-stained tunics and tattered anchals into banners
                    And singing the song of war.
        Let somebody call the restless youth,
        Let somebody shake up the crushed peasants.
        The Caravan of Revolution will pass through their way,
        Let them spread out the sky over Earth’s bosom.

White lashes, wrinkled faces are ablaze with fire
A thousand storms have risen in youthful eyes and young hearts.
Children have come out of their homes, with stones in their hands.
                    All are marching in the same direction.
        Let the rulers be warned in their mansions,
        To save their thrones, if they could.
        Bare hands of those who yearn for cloths,
        Can now upturn the earth with their rage.

Spades, shovels and hoes glitter on their strong shoulders
Sparks are flying from their gun barrels.
Their Bullets wouldn’t hesitate to bathe in kings’ blood.
                    Their gophan-catapults would bring down crowns.
        They learnt this leap in the fields of Russia,
        This army came to the Deccan marching via China.
        Those who sat in Dharna, have now stood up
        And the King’s palace would be stormed today.

This royalty, this crownship is now a burden on earth.
The poor world, habitual of tyranny, is fed up of suppression.  
The Earth is ready to gulp down every camp,
                    As its hunger is woke up.
        No more bestowing of privy purse, nor Jagirs,
        Broken chains lie scattered in streets.    
        Who will dare to destroy a field, or loot it
        That has swords grown as its fences.

This is the unrest of the people, fury of the public.
It is now impossible to suppress them.
it is a response to each and every tyranny.
You think it is Satyagrah, but it’s doom for you.
                    You must bow your head, Revolution has come.
        What talk about Jihad, a just war? where the destination of struggle?
        Compromises cannot enjoy the fruits of a just war.
        Stormy winds have groomed the tendrils of Freedom.
        Rebellions have enhanced the charms of Future.

Stretching her arms, Life has risen to take care of her affairs.
Over the ruins of burnt habitats, Creativity sketches out new cities.
Blossom moulds each pathway into the shape of new flower-rows,
                    Each bud seems throwing up colors.
        The wounds on Earth’s bosom are washed with blood.
        Waking up the destiny of soil, martyrs have gone to sleep.
        No army should dare to tread on this earth
        Rebels have sown here bombs beneath the ground.

The rule of violence is an insult of blooming humanity
This dictatorship is a blemish on the forehead of history
Victory is on your side, success under your feet,
                     O fighters! See, there is the Capital!


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