Hasan Hafizur Rahman

 

Killing, Only You be Gone

 

 

Flooded by moonlight

The entire meadow has become a vast lake.

Art thou, o tree, a messenger of peace ?

A gentle breeze blows over the green carpet of grass

Bending the blades of corn low

Like a gracious host welcoming his guests with a bow.

There are no cruel blows anywhere,

Only tender invitation all around.

In such a silence as this

Hostile loneliness shrinks in fear,

And you hear all about you

Only the soundless greeting of

              “Come in, come in, Please.”

 

Come, let us go the ritual bathing

In this glorious lake of moonlight.

Tonight there is  room for many a soul

In my heart.

I want the whole world to take part

In my joy,

To come and sit at my table,

I want to share my meal with all.

It matters little if one is a friend

Or a total stranger.

A meadow has no doors, you know.

So come one and all.

Moonlight has lit up a fall of fire,

The fire of love.

It has no heat,

Only warmth of affection,

And a longing to embrace all

                        in its fold.

Imbecile man, you have warred for too long.

For long you have trekked

                           the blood-soaked path.

But how far have you got to ?

You have incarnadined your hand

With your brother’s blood ;

Sometimes you have even looked

At your own visage

In the blood of you’re your father.

Your friend is no longer a friend of yours,

love is no longer love.

Your skyscrapers, your wide main roads

Are mere external glitter.

Underneath your cloths, man

What are you really ?

How much of humanity is there ?

How much of life ?

So many Lebanons have gone up ash heap !

How long more would you rattle

                                 Your arms

And try to make your mark thus ?

The fire of your anger has burnt in to cinders

All that is good and beautiful.

Can’t you look into the mirror

And see your own face there

Trembling in fear ?

Throughout the world, fear has gripped

Everybody’s heart and devoured all.

Where did you err, man,

That after building such a colourful history

You have now reached a point

Where you find no fixity

But meet at every corner constant uncertainty

And fear of death ?

How many Lebanons have gone up in flames

And turned into an ash heap !

 

Poisoned by fierce discord,

The bright hopes of man turn dark and dismal,

While the flag of the saint

Flies on one side of the road

You shink along your crafty way.

The eternally voyaging fleet knows everything.

It  only knows not how to steer clear of the hidden

                                                                 rock.

Because of your fault, man. 

You    carry on your shoulder

The cross f death.

To save the stag you kill the lion

On hearing the frightened shriek

You throttle the terrifying roar ;

You kill beastly strength and save beauty.

You have built all these terrible trifling things.

You are the lord of life

And yet you are a killer.

The evil mirror has captured in it

All that is good and beautiful.

In order to stop hilling

You only pile death upon death.

How May Lebanons have gone up in flames

And turned in to an ash heap!

 

Come, then, O eternal man.

Wash your heart in white moonlight,

Leave behind you your born enemy,

the bloodthirsty beast.

 

Come, let us go once for all

Beyond the pale of killing.

Let not the display of arms

But graceful conduct proclaim your name and

                                                     heritage

Tell us who is your brother

And who your sister.

There is no throne else

                        but a clean breast,

You have fought for long ;

You have razed to the ground

                 Many a Lebanon.

Now moonlight has lit up the fire of love ;

There is only one language now,

The language of love.

Now let us make it our weapon

And sweep away all that is dismal and dark.

 

Sorrow, I will not say farewell to you.

Grief, suffering, old age, death, cruel separation

No, I will not ask any of you either

To go away.

Only killing, you be gone !

And take away with you the bitter poison from

                                                        the air.

Many a happy home has been destroyed ;

Now let white peace reign

In the lake of moonlight ;

Let pure love live

In the heart of brothers and sisters.

 

Killing, only you be gone !

 

                               Translated by Kabir Chowdhury

          

 

Hasan Hafizur Rahman (1932—1983)

Poet, Essaist, Journalist and Story writer. Poetry : Bimukh Prantar (1963), Arta Shabdabali (1968), Jakhan Udyata Sangin (1972), Bajre Chera Andhar Amar (1976), Shokarta Tarbari ( 1982), Amar Bhetorer Bagh (1983). Essay : Adhunik Kovi o Kovita (1965), Mulyabodher Janye(1970), Sahitya Prosango (1973), Story : Aro Duti Mrityu (1970). Awards : Bangla Academy Award-1971, Adamjee Award –1967, Alakta Literary Award-1981.