Nice Poetry by Sahir Ludhianvi

Zulm phir zulm hai, badhta hai to mit jaataa hai
Khoon phir Khoon hai, Tapkega to jam jaayega!

Khaak-e-sehra pe jame, yaa kaf-e-qaatil pe jame
farq-e-insaaf pe, yaa paa-e-salaasal pe jame
tegh-e-bedaad pe, yaa laasha-e-bismil pe jame
Khoon phir Khoon hai Tapkega to jam jaayega!

laakh baithe koi chhup chhup ke kameen gaaho mein
Khoon Khud deta hai jallado ke maskaan ka suraagh
saazishein laakh udati rahein zulmat ka naqaab
le ke har boond nikalti hai hatheli pe chiraagh
zulm ki kismat-e-nakaarah-o-rusvaa se kaho
jab’r ki hikmat-e-purkaar ke eema se kaho
mehmal-e-majlis-e-awaam ki laila se kaho

Khoon deewana hai, daaman pe lapak sakta hai
shola-e-tund hai, Khirman pe lapak sakta hai

tum ne jis Khoon ko maqtal mein dabaanaa chaaha
aaj vo kuchaa-o-bazaar mein aa nikla hai
kahi shola kahi naarah.. kahi patthar ban ke
Khoon chalta hai to rukta nahi sangeeno se
sar jo uthtaa hai to dabtaa nahi aaeeno se

zulm ki baat hi kya, zulm ki aukaat hi kya
zulm bas zulm hai, aagaaz se anjaam talak

Khoon phir Khoon hai, so shakl badal sakta hai
aisi shaklein ke mitaaoo to mitaaye na mite
aise shole k bujhaao to bujhaaye na bujhe
aise naare k dabaao to dabaaye na dabe
Zulm Phir Zulm hai...

By: Sahir Ludhianvi



Here’s a translation of the poetry:


Repression is sill repression
Rising, it must flop
Blood is sill blood
Spilling it must clot.
Whether it clots on desert sands
Or upon assassin’s hands
On justice’s head or around shackled feet
On injustice’s sword or on the wounded corpse
Blood is still blood
Spilling, it must clot.
However much one lies in ambush
Blood betrays butcher’s hideout
Conspiracies may veil in thousand darkly mask
Each blood drop ventures out with burning lamp on its palm.
Tell oppression’s vain and blemished fate
Tell cruelty’s crafty Imam
Tell the Nations of the World
Blood is crazy
It can leap up to the cloak
It is inferno, it can flare up to burn grain-stock.
The blood you sought to suppress in abattoir
Today that blood moves out into street
Here an ember, there a slogan, there a stone
Once blood comes to flows
Bayonets are no avail
Head, once it is raised
Is not downed by law’s hail.
What is about oppression?
What is with its impression?
Oppression is, all of it, but oppression
From beginning to end
Blood is still blood
Myriad form it can assume
Forms such as are indelible
Embers such as are inextinguishable
Slogans such as are irrepressible.