Poem Hunter
Be Ever Stronger!
(24 May 1899 - 29 August 1976 / Bardhaman / India)

Be Ever Stronger!

Inside and outside, equally -
always be stronger, ever!
The more bad times approach,
be firm and don't yield. Never!
The more you fear defeat,
just be that much more brave!
Let your sword-grip not loosen
at the thought of dark grave.

Continue your struggle against the monsters
for the truth's sake;
Death at the battle field? Your name
the world, forever, will take.

This is the command of God:
Be strong on this earth. Always!
It is the braves who have turned impossible
into possible in every age.

The unbelievers and the cowards -
to Allah, they are not lovable;
The 'Tiger of Allah' is he,
who attains faith unshakable.

Anyone who loses patience and faith
can't be a Muslim under the sun;
God Himself is whose Lord in this world,
he fears absolutely none!

The believer hears only the echo of Takbir
in all the hatred and prejudice;
rebukes and criticism do not distract him,
at adversity he throws kiss.

God is the ultimate truth;
fear belongs to the domain of falsehood;
All these noise and hulabaloo,
for believers, become nutrition-food.

Have you forgotten
those fearless valiants from Arabia,
who dethroned
the emperors of Rome and Persia?

How many were they in number?
What weapon did their hands hold?
With their complete faith in God,
were they not wonderfully bold?

Oblivious to win or defeat,
they fought valiantly without precedence;
Every corner of the world shook
and trembled at their exemplary confidence.

They ruled the world
while lived like a destitute;
Loss of a battle did not ruin their spirit,
this was their attitude.

They died with a laugh;
retreating was not their mood;
To them Islam was
a perennial struggle against falsehood.

They were the warriors of God in this world,
this is what they knew;
They fought for and achieved freedom;
begging for it was not their view.

Success greets him who desires
to engrave his own death stone;
He can't be a general,
at sighting adversaries, who tremble to his bone.

The more enemies he sees,
his battle-thirst does grow!
Like a blazing fire in veins and bones,
his spirit burns aglow.

His swords become even sharper
as he is hurt more;
As his supplies diminish,
he strikes harder at enemies' door.

Don't despair! All the fatalist
and victims of hopelessness in my sight!
You are already wounded or dead
even without any fight!

The head that you lowered
in God's worship,
do not lower that to anyone,
or to any hardship.

The head that bent before God,
who can further make it bend?
If a sword severs that head,
to pick it up, angels God does send.

He who turns a weak person
into a power house,
he is the Imam to me,
love on him this soul bestows.

Whose words and deeds give strength and courage
to those without determination,
I am decorating his crown;
for him is my mobilization.

He who fasts so that
Eid will knock at poor's door,
I believe he is a beloved of God,
and yes, he is even more.

Against the ambassadors of miseries
or enemies of people,
the braves who will fight them
and make them cripple.

At the command of Allah,
I invite them to the congregation,
those who were asleep,
even they are joining in jubilation.

My Takbir call is only for those
who live like a dead,
the soldiers of the Truth
will come forward, off their comfy bed.

I blow the trumpet
of the rising sun of the coming age,
I have no fear of death,
or of a prison's cage.

I cry and summon all,
standing alone at the new age's minaret,
If a duck does not come forward,
a bird will come with its wing spread.

In this path fear of roaming hawks
and cruel hunters unavoidably lies,
the light-seeking birds are still coming forward
with chirps of sunrise.

Death-scared now are
the men and women of Bengal, to me so dear!
I have taken up the sword
to remove their stubborn fear.

We have heard
the scared souls' sad supplication,
we must rescue and free them,
this is what Allah wants from us as a nation.

We are His servants,
and we have received the mandate;
To save life of those scared people,
we would never hesitate.

I play the trumpet and wave the flag,
as the cloud gathers up above;
our souls will be awaken
with the strike of thunder and rain of love.

Politics paves the way
for our forward march,
victory will visit us again
on this same noble path.

In whose heart there is desire
and effort to become strong again,
I am close to them,
and at their door I knock in pain.

They are being mobilized
in Bengal's motherly lap,
I have seen full moon
shining above like a victory-cap.

[Original: Nitto Prabal Hou! (bengali)
Translation: Mohammad Omar Farooq]

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Comments (1)

i like it...good poem and translation is good too.......