TAJ MAHAL , SAHIR LUDHIANVI

Taj-- perhaps a manifestation of love for you!

Maybe you venerate this colourful vale!

My darling! let's meet somewhere else --
What place do poor have in the royal courts?
Roads which are sealed by the monarch's stamp,
how could loving souls tread on such paths?

My love! hidden behind this proclamation of fidelity,
you ought to have seen the facade of royal grandeur.
So easily lured by the tombs of dead kings,
cast also a look on our gloomy abodes.

Innumerable people in this world have been in love,
who says they didn't carry genuine feelings?
They simply lacked the means for their display,
because they were also poor -- like you and me.

These buildings and tombs, forts and castles,
symbolic pillars of greatness by the despotic kings,
are cancerous sores on the breast of our earth,
soaked in them is the blood of our fore-parents.*

My darling! those people must also have loved,
whose skill has bestowed beauty upon this ediface.
The tombs of their own beloveds went unmarked,
no one ever lights a candle on their graves.

This garden, Jumna's¤ bank -- this lovely palace,
these engraved walls, arches and the recess!
An emperor, by merely relying upon his riches,
has mocked at the love of poor people like us.

My darling! let's meet somewhere else.

BLOOD IS AFTER ALL BLOOD ,Sahir Ludhianvi

Cruelty is after all cruelty –
when it inflates, it dissipates.
Blood is after all blood –
when it drips, it coagulates.

It may congeal
On the desert’s chest,
or on the murderer’s sleeve;
On the faulty scales of justice,
or on the links of chains;
On the oppressive sword,
or on the slaughtered corpse.

Blood is after all blood –
when it drips, it coagulates.

One may hide in whichever shelter on likes,
blood itself reveals the executioner’s hide-out.
Conspiracies may cast around the veil of darkness,
yet, every drop of blood carries its own burning torch.

The blood which you tried to suppress in the abattoir,
today has rushed out in the streets and squares –
as a flame, or a battle-cry, or as a stone.
Once blood starts flowing,
the bayonets cannot restrain it.
Once blood lifts its head,
the ordinances cannot constrain it.

What is to be said about cruelty!
What is cruelty’s nature?

Cruelty is always cruelty –
from its beginning to its end.
Blood is after all blood,
It can take so many forms:
forms which cannot be destroyed,
flames which cannot be extinguished,
cries which cannot be silenced.