Archives: poems for Lumumba

Sahir Ludhianvi

When the tide of oppression rises too high

It exhausts itself, it must die
But the martyr’s blood when it is shed
Freezes into a drop of immortality shining ruby-red

Blood
Martyr’s blood
It leaves its stain
On the desert sand, 
On the book of justice, 
On the martyr’s grave
And also on the tyrant’s hand

Blood is eloquent, it will not remain mute
It cannot be hidden, it cannot be silenced,
It will proclaim itself.
Let the evil ones operate from their hide-outs
The trail of blood will lead to the murderer’s dens
Let the conspirators veil themselves in darkness
But every drop of a martyr’s blood
Will light an immortal flame.
Proclaim then, to the doomed prophets of oppression
Warn the tricksters of diabolical diplomacy
Unveil the blushing bride of U.N.O

Warm them all
Proclaim to them all---
The passion of blood that defies all tyrannies, 
The flaming sweep of blood which can drown the citadels of injustice!

Beware, beware, you tyrants
--Beware, beware, you foul conspirators

The blood you sought to hide in desert sand
The blood you tried to dam with a martyr’s grave
Has flooded the whole wide world
Here a flame of revolt
There a stone flung in protest
And a banner of freedom everywhere



Sahir Ludhianvi
Translated from Urdu by K. A. Abbas 




Who held the chisel
And carved out the solid black figure
A boiling lava of anger
Coursing through her veins?
Violence tore up her vermillion blouse
It dyed her skirt into a blood-black colour
Bare-breasted
She walked through the streets
A drop of milk trickled down her black breasts
A drop of water fell from her red red eyes
Guarding motherhood
And searching the dead body of a black fire
The blood is purple
Can the white sheet hide this red spot in its folds?
The black forests shake
And the copper heated sky rumbles
The stone gates of the caves have opened
The doors of the U.N.O are shut
A question arises from the dark continent
Like the earth’s red tongue licking the breasts of the sky


Amrita Pritam
Translated from Punjabi by Balwant Gargi


Another start shot in the gloom of night
The shackles break, and breaks the chain, 
And brightens like a chisel’d gem, 
The conscience of humanity; 
Again a dagger flashed in some hand, 
And streams of blood
Glittered in the hush of night; 
And then the breeze blew past my doors this morning, 
With brows all daubed with the blood of dawn. 
Glory to United Nations and the “Security” bestowed by it
And mind the sway of truth and faith, 
The cross of hopes
Is more pronounced in the wilderness;
And lo, another drop of blood
Crept down the eye of dawn. 
So long as the traces of assassins last, 
Proceed to wipe out each and every trace of theirs---
Awake, Don’t be Silent! Speak!
Rise to the Martyrs’ festal days, 
And listen over there the altar cries:
“Keep quiet never more. Ah never more.”



Makhdoom Mohiuddin
Translated from Urdu by Wahab Hydar

Amrita Pritam