India and the world has seen a lot in the recent past, and these poems from the past mirror the importance of resistance when the times are tough. The purpose behind translating these three different poets was a common underlying humanitarian theme of their work which believed in democratizing the political space. I personally feel that these three poems can help us reflect on our situation and why we must resist now, in utter urgency.
WE SHALL FIGHT COMRADE
We shall fight, comrade, for the grieving seasons
we shall fight, comrade, for the slaved aspirations.
We shall amass the scattered pieces of life
the hammer still blows on the blue anvil
the plough still pierces the howling soil
this isn’t a duty of ours – the question revolves.
we shall fight comrades
climbing onto the shoulder of questions.
Assassinations betided-
for the oath to the exploited
for the vows to the extinguished eyes
for the promise to the scars in the hands
we shall fight comrades
We shall fight till-
Viru, the goatherd, is dictated to drink goat piss,
the cultivators are let to smell the invigorating scent
of their blooming mustard flowers,
the husband of the rural swollen eyed teacher
returns from the long-going war.
Until-
the policemen are bound to strangle
the throats of their own brothers,
the bureaucrats write the alphabets
with the bloody ink.
We shall fight till
there is a need to fight in the world.
When there will be no guns,
there will be swords.
When there will be no swords
there will be diligence to fight.
If there will be no modus,
there will be a need to fight.
And we shall fight, comrades,
we shall fight
for, no one gets anything without fighting
we shall fight
for, why haven’t we fought yet?
we shall fight
to keep the memories alive
of those who have died
in acceptance to their guilt,
we shall fight.
(Poem by: Paash
Translated by: Sutputra Radheye)
(2)
This war is the war of freedom
Beneath of the flag of freedom
Of the inhabitants of India
Of the denounced, of the feeble
Of the tipsy lovers of freedom
Of the serf, and the laborer
To us, belongs the whole world:
the east, the west, the north, the south.
We are Africans; Americans, we are
We are the revolutionaries of China.
Red soldiers, we are, in a war with oppression
With bodies of iron.
What war is the war, what peace is the peace
If the enemy has not been disposed
What world will that world be
Where there will be no self-rule
What freedom will the freedom be
Where no reign of the workers be
There, the red dawn is coming
of freedom, of freedom
Pomegranate flowers are singing the song
of freedom, of freedom
Look, the flag is fluttering in the wind
of freedom, of freedom.
(Poet: Maqdoom Mohiuddin
Translation: Sutputra Radheye)
(3)
The pain iced like mountain must melt
From this Himalaya, a Ganga must flow
Today, this wall is trembling like the curtains
But, the bet was that the foundation shall tremble
In every street, every alley, every city, every village
Every dead-body shall walk quivering their hands
My goal isn’t to create only a chaos
All my efforts are to change the condition
If not in my heart, then in yours
Wherever, the fire may, but it shall be alive
(Poet: Dushyant Kumar
Translation: Sutputra Radheye)
Sutputra Radheye is a poet and translator.
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