I Sing of Heroes

I sing of Heroes - 
The youth, the revolutionary, 
Who, armed with a sharp Excalibur 
Today go forth in all directions 
With valiant steps and steady 
Upon a campaign for the impossible, 
The Egyptian Pyramids of Antiquity, 
Stand as a chronicle of such campaign, 
Heroes whose mere breath 
doth drive away into oblivion 
The dead leaves of moth-eaten scriptures 
Who hew down the haunts and 
                                                temples of false gods. 
And the time-honoured ale-house 
Of the grand hypocrite 
In the person of a reputed Moralist; 
Whose mighty streams of ideal reform 
Swept away the long-standing nuisance 
The awful and heavy stocks and stones of customs, 
The old fossils of dead scriptures. 
Those who came fearlessly 
To the temple of the unreal 
Armed with the stout relentless club, 
To break the bondage of 'Maya' 
And did with undaunted courage 
Strike, by means of mighty hammer 
The Chinese walls of superstition. 
Those who ploughed the Burial Ground 
And pushed away the dead bones 
To layout a garden of blooming flowers, 
Who now crowd the seashore of life, 
As 'Cynosure of neighbouring eyes'. 
                                I sing of Heroes. 
Who today march forward 
Upon the path of life in tune, with the world   
                                                -- At dead of night the other day 
A passenger who, all alone, 
                                launched his boat 
On the dangerous Deep, 
Did not return to the shore next morning. 
In memory of that fearless adventurer 
I shed my tears and write an Elegy 
Even today in the stillness of Night 
Even today I keep sleepless all night 
And sing a song of welcome to him 
He who did not return on the morrow 
Did indeed take an aerial journey over night, 
As a traveller of infinite space 
In search of a far-off New World. 
The eternal Sentinel at the gate of Death 
Trembles in fear of him, 
And keeps ever-wakeful vigils. 
Those who under the mighty impulse of life 
Pursue Death ceaselessly 
In the depths of the ocean, 
In the boundless sky, 
And all over the surface of the Globe, 
Those who go down into the Hades 
And despoil the palace of Yakshas 
of its rare gems, 
Who disregarding the bite of the 
                                                terrible cobra 
Steal the jewel from its head, 
Who have controlled the thunder of Bajrapani, 
And made the proud lightning, 
Daughter of the clouds, 
A captive and a maid - 
I have come to salute and sing 
Of those who are attended by the wind 
As an obedient servant 
Refreshing them with its balmy breath - 
My wailings and lamentations fill all the air for those 
Who mount the Scaffold 
And the Scaffold itself is tired now 
Of hanging them. 
And in whose prison, 
Behold, the fair Dawn held in fetters 
Doth wake up and smile 
A flowery smile!

Translation: Abdul Hakim