(Translated
from Oriya by the Author)
THUNDERS
roar and a blast blows overhead;
My days
are closing like fading buds
And lose
their existence in the lap of limitless Time
Like fish
in the fathomless ocean!
Sorrows
rush in flooded streams
And
strike the heart with pitiless blows,
Shaking
the limbs by a terrible shock
And
shifting the earth away from my feet;
I cannot
trust if I exist or not;
Still
laughing at the world with a fierce laugh,
Quietly I
work at my song of the Coming Age!
Gentle
as the dew of Autumn morn
Desires
countless come and vanish
Days
passing after days silent as the shephali falling.
Thoughts
that life could not stand
Burnt
like a red-hot iron in the chest–
Whither
would it lead and with what result?
Would it
burst like a thunderbolt
With a
universal conflagration
Blowing
off the sun and the moon?
And
quietly I work at my song of the Coming Age!
I
play the tune of a magnificent Life
That
admits the entire living and lifeless universe as free;
A life
defying death
Masters
all mornings and bereavements;
Wherein
dance the ripples of joy;
Unheeding
the differences of colour or creed, the life that marches on
And
admits a value for everything;
Every man
acknowledges his own follies at the outset
Appreciates
the sorrows of another at once;
And I,
the poet, play the tune of that coming life.
I
sing of a mighty Social Order
That
provides a roof over each head;
Every boy
or girl deserves a handful of rice;
And a
pair of clothes is available to all;
No one is
least debarred from schooling
Nor has
the right to go unemployed–
The State
finds work for all
And
recognises the claim of everybody to speak;
I sing
the theme of that social order.
The
society that denies the right to die of hunger
Or with a
begging bowl;
Or to die
in the ocean of wealth,
Where the
weak defy fear
And the
rich do not commit daylight robbery
And money
cannot buy everything
The brute
alone is not the master
And the
fool alone does not boast of strength;
I work at
the song of that imminent Order.
I sing
the glories of a new Faith
Which
nobody has the right to accept blindly
Or beat
one’s head or break down with fear.
The faith
that speaks the easiest language to be understood by all
And
brings in freedom like the light and the air,
Determines
the quantity of truth or lie
That
creates the high or the low in life–
I voice
the benediction of that great faith
Where the
whole Truth would raise its head
And the
mansion of lie would instantly collapse;
Today I
sing the song of that approaching Age!