This Stairway
Rafiq Azad
This stairway goes down up to the Bay of Bengal,
Blood has rolled from this stairway–
From Road Thirty-two
Through the green fields
The stream of blood flows to the Bay of Bengal.
He used to love the fields full of crops,
The wide open eyes were thirsty for birds
Birds were very dear to him
Forgetting the smell of tobacco he used to look up
To have a glimpse of the trees,
His sleeps were broken by the sounds of birds at dawn.
His bosom was brimful with dreams,
He had a father's heart, eyes wet with affection...
Everything in this land be it trivial or small
Were precious in his eyes
Only his own life was a trifle to him:
The huge body lies...
Spread over the vast map of motherland.
This soil has become rich with his blood,
He was the most handsome tall-man:
His shadow gets longer and longer
To cover the map with affection, care!
His blood has made this beloved soil fertile
His blood has transformed everything into greenery.
This stairway goes down up to the Bay of Bengal,
Blood has rolled down this stairway –
Spread throughout the homeland of dreams
Over the greenery of crop-fields
This purest blood flows to the Bay of Bengal.
0 comments:
Post a Comment