Kazi Nazrul Islam
and hold each other in caring embrace.
Let your love be the magnet
to bring the humanity to Allah's grace.
Kazi Nazrul Islam [Bengali: কাজী নজরুল ইসলাম, pronounced [kazi nozrul islam] (25 May 1899 – 29 August 1976) was a Bengali poet, writer, musician, anti-colonial revolutionary and the national poet of Bangladesh. Popularly known as Nazrul, he produced a large body of poetry and music with themes that included religious devotion and rebellion against oppression.
Quotes
[edit]- Lifetimes have passed, eyes fixed upon the path of hope,
- A desert traveler I roam, with no end—no end in sight.
- Year after year returns and fades away,
- I quench my thirst only with the salt of my own tears.
- Kindling the deceptive ignis fatuus, the mirage of despair,
- The desert garden beckons, singing a hundred songs.
- Was this desert once the depths of a vast ocean?
- I, the desert-dweller, still glimpse that dream today.
- Deep beneath those ocean waves, where the vessel sank—
- I search for my lost shipmate, treading these endless sands.
- Lifetimes have passed
- Muhammad, the beloved of three dimensions, has come to the world
- Come the sea, the sky, the wind, if you want to see.
- Dusted earth in heaven today, has won and gave shyness
- Today the rain of happiness has fallen in the adust Sahara.
- Look at Mother Amina's arms, baby swings, Islam swings
- Recites the words of testimony in the vealy mouth.
- All sinners and penitents today, has gotten pardon of all sins
- Unjust oppression has left the world.
- All praises recites the name, may God bless him and grant him peace
- Jinns fairies angels greet the Prophet on his feet.
- Muhammad, the beloved of three dimensions
- Dry leaves rustling, anklets jingling,
- Dances the wild whirlwind!
- On the water, shimmering, sparkling,
- Rippling waves she leaves behind!
- Trampling lotuses in the lake,
- Shaking Champa and Bakul awake,
- Restless waterfalls babble and break,
- Rushing through the fields aligned!
- Tearing wild-flower jewels away,
- Spreading dark hair in wild array,
- Like a mad queen, swaying in play,
- In her dusty cloak enshrined!
- Like a nomad, Persian maid,
- Charming valley, forest, and glade,
- Saffron-robed she storms the shade,
- Veil of desert sand entwined!
- Dry leaves rustling, anklets jingling
- The Dark and Beautiful Lifter of the Mountain,
- In the sweet forest of my mind, play Your flute,
- O wanderer divine, to the melody of springtime wine!
- Come as the vernal moon, O Lord of my heart,
- on this night so sweet and clear,
- Awaken the high tide of devotion within,
- O Rover of the Yamuna dear!
- On the couch of love in my heart's deep shrine,
- take Your rest, O Playful Divine,
- Lighting the lamp of my eyes at Your bedside,
- I shall wake, for Your beauty I pine.
- All my dreams and desires have withered away,
- weave them into a wreath for Your grace;
- I shall fashion the anklets for Your lotus feet,
- threading the tears from my weeping face.
- The Dark and Beautiful Lifter of the Mountain
- You worship an idol made of earth, but the Mother you do not revere!
- In every mother the divinity resides, (in every single home)
- Oh blind fool, you see it not, you fail to hold her dear!
- Year after year, you put on a show of worshipping the Divine,
- Seeing her cowardly children, the Mother turns to stone in shame's design.
- To win her heart through devotion’s battle, no true seeker seems to strive here!
- The clay idol dissolves in water, floating away on Vijaya’s tide,
- Yet the Mother’s love awakens in the sky and wind, as an sleepless, compassionate guide.
- Right beside you, Her grace smiles bright—
- Why don't you seek Her on that path, why look away in fear?
- Idol made of earth
- Weary of struggles, I, the great rebel,
Shall rest in quiet only when I find
The sky and the air free of the piteous groans of the oppressed.
Only when the battle fields are cleared of jingling bloody sabres
Shall I, weary of struggles, rest in quiet,
I am the rebel eternal,
I raise my head beyond this world and,
High, ever erect and alone!- "Bidrohi" ["The Rebel"] ( December 1921), as translated by Kabir Choudhary
- O heart, Ramadan has come to an end,
and the happy Eid knocks at the door for all,
Come, today give yourself away wholeheartedly,
heed the divine call.- "Eid, At The End Of Fasting Of Ramadan", as translated by Mohammad Omar Farooq
- Let's forget today who is friend or foe,
and hold each other in caring embrace.
Let your love be the magnet
to bring the humanity to Allah's grace.
Remember those in perennial fast,
constantly in hunger and deprivation,
Share with the poor, orphans and the destitutes,
to make inclusive your celebration.- "Eid, At The End Of Fasting Of Ramadan", as translated by Mohammad Omar Farooq
- O heart, with the very stones or bricks
that some people hurled at you all along,
build a wonderful mosque of love
with foundation, solid and strong.- "Eid, At The End Of Fasting Of Ramadan", as translated by Mohammad Omar Farooq
- Come and see, in Mother Amina’s lap,
- The moon of the honeyed full moon swings there.
- As if the crimson sun cradles in the lap of dawn.
- Across all creation, a cry arises today: "Who is it that has come?"
- With the words of Kalma Shahadat on his lips, "Who is it that has come?";
- Divine light shines upon his brow, "Who is it that has come?"
- The sky, the planets, and the stars fall prostrate—"Who is it that has come?";
- The angels recite Durud, as all the gates of Heaven swing open.,
- The one who restored the rights of man to man,;
- The one who declared, "There is no Lord but Allah,"
- The one who donned the garb of the poor for the sake of humanity,
- The one who brought the King and the poor to the same row;
- Upon this earth, the Prophet came to bless,
- A vision for the souls in deep distress;
- The world today with songs of freedom rings,
- As joy through all the universe now sings.
- Come and See, In Mother Amina's Lap (Tora dekhe ja Amina mayer koley]
- The Psalms, the Torah, and the Gospels—through the ages long,
- Proclaimed his coming from the heavens in a sacred song.
- The silent, suffering Earth’s long penance brings him to our shore,
- With a heavy heart and holy feet, the Savior’s at the door.
- All scriptures of all times, the seekers, and the wise,
- The sages, saints, and prophets with vision in their eyes—
- All voiced his arrival; now the churning of time is done,
- From the ocean of sorrow emerges the Immortal One!
- The ancient Earth beholds again a sunrise bright and new,
- The Final Deliverer is here—sing victory, fear subdue!
- The Siddiq (truthful) and Amin (trustworthy) whom Jesus and the Bible sought,
- The one whose path the Torah's verses repeatedly taught;
- Whom David, the sweet-voiced, sang of in melodies of old,
- The 'Mahamad' whom the Atharva Veda did long ago unfold;
- That Guest has arrived! After ages of waiting and sighs,
- The Jewel of Meditation finally meets our eyes.
- The world overflows with light, with joy, with fruit and flower,
- With scent and color, stars and spheres, in this holy hour.
- Earth prostrates in worship, the ancient shrine stands tall,
- But alas! Ghosts of the past return to haunt the hall.
- Three hundred and sixty idols, carved of wood and stone,
- Sit upon golden pedestals, usurping Allah’s throne.
- Unable to bear this sight—this insult to the Divine,
- The Prophet seeks the path of light, for truth his soul does pine.
- To Khadija he vows, "By Allah and the Kaaba’s sanctity,
- I shall not bow to Lat or Uzza; only one God I see.
- What fool would worship figures made of straw and clay,
- By one's own hands created? To the Creator, I shall pray!"
- The virtuous, devoted Khadija speaks with him as one:
- "Cast out these idols, Lat and Manat, that the masses run upon.
- Through your grace, the Light of the One has finally appeared,
- My dark night has vanished, Lord; the path is bright and cleared."
- Slowly the Quraysh learned: Muhammad, the Trustworthy,
- Disdained the Kaaba’s idols, viewing them as vanity.
- O Nightingale, do not rock the flower-branches
- In the garden today.
- The flower-buds have not yet broken their slumber; They are still lost in a languid trance.
- Even now - the North wind sighs night and day,
- Through the empty, desolate branches.
- The South wind, singing its Ghazals, has not yet arrived,
- Nor is the honeybee yet enchanted.
- When will that flower-maiden, tearing her veil,
- Step out into the world?
- When will the joyful touch of dew break her sleep
- And flush her cheeks with crimson?
- The spring tide of blossoms will come,;
- Waking the buds and breaking the banks.
- A smile will steal upon the lips of the flower-buds,
- And dimples will bloom on their cheeks. Ohh Poet - enchanted by the scent, you dove into the water,
- But found no shore.
- You filled your heart with flowers today;
- Tomorrow, your eyes will fill with tears.
- Swing, swing, I give you a swing, yet why do you not wake?
- Phagun (spring) is here, calling out—rise now, my friend, for heaven’s sake!
- Shall I break your slumber with hope or intoxication?
- Or shall I stay awake myself, in restless expectation?
- The southern breeze has arrived,
- The bees and birds are lost in your love, revived. Rise, rise, oh rise, my friend, Phagun is finally here,
- The southern wind whispers a question: "Where is the heart's dear?"
- Rise, rise, oh rise, my friend, Phagun is finally here,
- The southern wind whispers a question: "Where is the heart's dear?" The blossoms of spring awake, the riverbanks shall overflow,
- A flood of flowers is coming, in a vibrant, rhythmic glow.
- Upon the lips of the budding flowers, a smile will softly play,
- And dimples will grace the cheeks of the earth in a floral display. Oh Poet, lost in the fragrance, you dove into the deep,
- You found no shore, only secrets the waters keep.
- Today your heart is full of flowers, but your eyes shall fill with dew,
- Oh Nightingale of the garden, do not swing upon the flowery branch anew.
- Bagichay Bulguli Tui ( O Nightingale, do not rock the flower-branches In the garden today)
- Do not disturb her midnight trance.
- Like a withered flower fallen upon the dusty path—
- She will rise no more, do not call to her.
- Like a silent ascetic, she sought only you in meditation,
- Her eyes fixed forever upon the path you would take.
- You, who never wiped away her tears in life—
- Do not come now to weep by her side.
- In the lap of death, she has fallen asleep in profound peace,
- Clasping to her chest the dry garland she wove for you.
- She who found solace only in dying—
- Let her sleep, do not wake her.
- Do not disturb her midnight trance. (Or Nishith Shomadhi Bhangio Na)
