Many a time my well-wishers opined that
I have a very bright future before me−
That is, through sinful earning,
Big post, money,
House in Park Circus;
Purse-proud daughter as pleasure companion.
But when hope belied them at a premature time, they said :
It's senility that made me good for nothing,
I peddle pieces of idealism on the foot-path.
I don not hesitate to compare Park Circus
With a quarter of the hell;
Because I see the pus of capitalism
Accumulated in dust-bins there
(Although dressed up in varieties of finery)!
Nevertheless irresistible urges come
From the nearby slum;
I search for the excellence in man
Among the lowly, the so-called `mean';
I combine my sighs with those of the hungry animals
And understand at every step
How difficult the road to idealism is.
I find innumerable Fera-un and karun
Array against me night and day;
I see helpless Boni Israils
At every corner of the street−
The same way search for Musa Kalimullah,
Entire street is shaking with pent up sighs,
The blood of the oppressed flows thereby.
This earth is all the same...
The strife-torn mind forgets struggle's disgrace
And rises everywhere for imminant all-engrossing zehad
Fearless soldiers for truth in search of Musa Kalimullah.
[Translated by Abdur Rashid Khan]
Farrukh Ahmad's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Personal Explanation by Farrukh Ahmad )
- Closed, Annalee Hopkins Somerville
- Iridescent, Adriana Avila
- Arcadian, Kumarmani Mahakul
- A Hidden Angry, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- irritating rash, lee fones
- Feeling Love, Sandra Feldman
- so in other words, i feel for two, Mandolyn ...
- Text time, george albot
- Deep Friendship, Sandra Feldman
- The Mighty Tumbler, Samya Bose
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