A Martyr's Morale

Poem By Ram Prasad Bismil

We too could take the rest at home,
We too could enjoy the pleasure of 'foam',
We too had been the sons of someone,
To nourish us what they have not done.
At the time of departure from our home,
We could'nt say at least to them-
'In case if the tears dropp in lap,
Think as if your child is there.'

In our's fate was the torture since birth,
We had the dole, the distress & dearth.
Who had the care and dare so dire!
When we took our step in fire.
Till farther had tried the country to sheer.

We have no woe of self but bother,
Why downfall does the country disorder.
When cometh the year of freedom in nation,
Ours is the race that feels us a 'passion'.
It's only we, who are anxious to die everywhere.

O Youths! in case if it clicks to you,
Remember 'us' ever for a while in view.
Whether your body be cut into pieces,
And your mother be drench in distress,
Yet your faces should be fresh with flair.

In our veins runs the blood of a moth,
We have now taken for the Nation an oath.
So are performed customs of a Martyr,
The brothers embrace their swords altogether,
And the sisters are ready to sit on the pyre.

We dedicate head and sacrifice heart,
To our motherland we offer every sort.
We know not where to dwell & dine,
Be merry friends! we march align,
To inhabit any solitude somewhere.

O Youths! it's the proper time to face,
Wear every sort of suffering for the race.
It's nothing if you bestow for country,your blood.
Take the blessings of Mother in a flood.
Let us see! who cometh next to share?

[Translation by Dr.'Krant' M.L.Verma]

Comments about A Martyr's Morale

I know i will be tears dropping from my eyes......every now and then i remember RAM PRASAD BISMIL ji......he had a true poetic heart and a never ending spirit for our MATRA BHOOMI.....jai ho bismil....

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What's the use hats off, when the person died,
What's the use of message which came after tide.

When hopes were dead & died every thought,
What's the use of message if the messenger brought.

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Ours is the talk in the field of foe,
See! which stage has reached this show.

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The secret of life is to cut across flow.

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The desire for sacrifice is now in our hearts
We shall now see what strength there is in the boughs of the enemy.
O country, Why does no other speaks?
Whoever I see, is gathered quiet in your party...