I am now alone and gathering silences in voidity,

I am carrying the distance upon my shoulders dragging my feet

along the road, my hands dropped by the weight of inaction.

Veil my eyes, my ears!

In our land where flowers bloom, drops of blood are falling.

In our land where birds sing, the air is laden with sighs.

the days are tied to the trees and hanged.

the rising sun is removed and flung away

savagely into the rocks of the west;

each dawn is vomiting blood and my people

sit with folded hands!.....

Why don't the mountains scream in rage,

why don't the skulls of nights break into pieces,

why don't these millions of stars crush themselves

to death and fall?

In my own country my voice has become

fugitive; the voice I raise here shoot into sky

and stuck up somewhere, never returns,

people why don't you listen to me?

Oh, they don't know to wake up?

They don't know how to open their mouth and yawn,

They don't know how to stretch their swarthy hands

and thunder their legs on the earth...

They are our own people, let us

give them our strength...

Let us give the entire content of our

existence to them.

who make our country, who make our history,

who fulfill our dreams and aspirations-
Canto VI

You called me; but I would have any how come in search

of you even without your call, in quest of your voices-

Looking with my ears, with my eyes, with my skin,

with my nostrils.

Not one, but with all my senses,

searching in all directions of my country-

I came, not that I only know and you

don't know; but that we all shall walk in the

same direction hand in hand.

Not that we should all speak the same word

but that our word, shall not be a mere word

but a flame of light which will illumine

the paths of the people.

And that we shall realize it is within us

it is for this I am in search of you-

My friends my words and thoughts are countries

never tread by the feet of any man, my consciousness is a gypsy

who knows no boundaries familiar

to the antiquated history of mankind.

My footsteps are mighty wild lions that

sprawl in the dense forest unaware of fear-

I fight with flowers, I fight with gardens of flowers,

I fight with clouds, fight with fierce storms.

Fight I breath to live, my limbs know no submissive postures.

I am the solder of righteous indignation.

Truth is the volcano that explodes in my bosom.

truth is the fierce cataract that roars in my voice.

I burn my selfish body and flow like a river molten gold

in the highways of my nation.

Come with me..

Why fear? Be not afraid of yourself,

But be afraid for your country, for,

understand how great are the losses of your country

before your petty, personal ones.

How can you eat and sleep amidst

this colossal destruction?

You know my brothers,

I want new voices brimming with red red hot consciousness.

To make my own weapons and armoury,

to wipe out the tears of my nation.

You don't know perhaps but I know

there are mines of sulfur in your voices;

Every poem that you make is gun to fight,

and every line that you carry is a canon

to blow up the enemy

I bequeath my voice to my people; my

language breaths the oxygen of my nation

my country is the life of my art....

I am the prophet of blood!

In my country the leadership i mine,

I shall not let it go to politics-

Come, take up your arms, your poems,

come like armies, like storms, snatching your

thunderbolts which for an occasion you hid in the clouds-

* * * *

I am the tempestuous wind.

I have come to distribute to you unrest,

I am shouting to chase away oppression from the earth.

come my people to chase away oppression from the earth.

to follow me, you must ruthlessly set aside the self

that clings to you, and become free.

Your voice should banish your own song and give

birth to the song of the people, just as the voice

of the sky hurls out its thunder.

You should join your wars with the wars of your country-

How much love after all does your small life require?

The earth will be inherited by the oppressed; come let us excavate

our dawn, buried deep in this land.

Come my people take up your ploughs.

come with your women, your children.

Come out of your hearths and homes,

from prisons of your schools and offices,

your academies and assemblies.

Come let us see centuries blown off in the winds of time.

Come, walk with me through the villages towns and cities.

Flow like floods, roar like floods through all the

streets and highways of our nation.

Look at the graves in our fields, in our

forests, in our hills, in our walls and halls where

they buried our dawn!

Come take up your ploughs brothers.

throw off your books my children, let us suck the life-breath

out of those swines who buried our dawn,

and made us slaves in our own country.

Let us search, in the earth for the footsteps

of those millions who embraced suffering while building

edifices of happiness in the fields of mankind.

come let us plough and tear the earth.

let us pick the millions of dumb voices that stumble

across our plough.

Let us unfurl this red desire and walk ahead.

Let us discover in the journey that

man has no death and life never dies;

Come friends, there is a distance to go,

come breaking your selfish walls.

Let us bathe in the epic waves of the people,

Let us e washed off to the shores of the new world,

come let us go-