Puspa Munankarmi
When dark, he came to my house
I fed him the supper meant for me
That night, I was in empty stomach
I left my bed for him to sleep
I became a guard to him
The next day, he came again
Gave us a plentiful, sweet and enticing speech
We, also, saw many sweet dreams
Hoped for the Sun to shine tomorrow
We took his words as Guru Mantra
Whenever he sang along with the tunes of the guitar
Even the blood of the dumb and plain people began to boil
Even animals sought for freedom
Many days later he came to our village, again
Said, there was a severe need for blood
Said, we ought to contribute a pint
We, the dry and pale-faced villagers, bunched up
As said, gave blood to him;
Just then, we all felt proud of ourselves
For donating red fluid during emergency
A few days later
The whole village was surrounded by guns
Fruits, trees, even grasses, wrapped with blood
Our dwelling was filled with red stains
But the corpses, just fell, were feeling proud
Warriors who were about to die
Being able to give life for the soil
And even wild animals came there
Sniffing those corpses and blood
Bowed their head in honor, returned
The birds sang the songs of the brave warriors
At that time, not only the Earth
Even the Sky was hailing the Red
The next day, to sing the song of revolution, in honor of the warriors
The same singer of the people came about
When with the revolutionary sound of the guitar
He muffled his voice
The freezing blood also began to boil
The corpses buried in the grave began to move
There was a shower of blood from the sky
When night fell
The same singer came out softly
Started to drink the same pre-boiled blood
Hunting for corpse one after another, began to dine
And with the red cloth, kept over to cover the corpse
Wiped his hands and mouth, went inside, silently.
Translated to English by Sylvia Razopadhyay