Khoon fir Khoon hai !!!

This is a nazm by one of the very famous poet of Urdu, Sahir Ludhianvi who wrote it on the slain Congolese leader Patrice Lumumba, the first Prime-Minister of Congo and also a staunch anti-imperialist.
Now, Sahir sa'ab is very dear to me as he was the first poet I heard, he being my Grandpa's favourite, and my inspiration. Can write on and on lauding him but that won't serve the purpose. So here's my favourite nazm of his:

Zulm phir zulm hai, barhta 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 gaahon mein,
Khoon khud deta hai jalaadon ke maskan ka suraagh,
Saazishein laakh uraati rahein zulmat ka naqaab,
Le ke har boond nikalti hai hatheli pe chiraagh.

Zulm kii qismat-e-nakaarah-o-rusvaa se kaho,
Jab’r kii hikmat-e-purkaar ke eema se kaho,
Mehmal-e-majlis-e-aqwaam kii laila se kaho,
Khoon diiwana 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,
Kahiin shola kahiin naarah kahiin patthar ban ke,
Khoon chalta hai to rukta nahiin sangeeno se,
Sar jo uthtaa hai to dabtaa nahiin aaeeno se.

Zulm ki baat hi kya, zulm ki auqaat hi kya,
Zulm bas zulm hai, aaghaaz se anjaam talak,
Khoon phir khoon hai, so shakl badal sakta hai,
Aisi shaklein ke mitaaoo to mitaaye na bane,
Aise shole k bujhaao to bujhaaye na bane,
Aise naare k dabaao to dabaaye na bane.

For those who didn't get it, here's the translation to the best of my understanding, any error regretted.


BLOOD IS BUT BLOOD !

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 UN Security Council,
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.