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The Undying Voices
1952. Curfew was on and roads were vacant.
Some armed hands were still haunting there
To hush every possible roar or uprising rant
With the spiteful hammer of thunderous fear.
But a murmur of revolution was soon heard
As thousands of spirited people marched on
With the resilience of restoring their barred
Language from the threshold of extinction.
They protested peacefully carrying placard
Of their clauses until the armed hands fired
And soaked them with blood in vain to retard
Undying voices that can never be smothered.
Each drop of the sacrificial blood has built
the monument of revolution that will always
Shine as a star of Devotion and forever quilt
The vigorous souls with its contagious rays.
Their immortal death blazed a fire of liberty
in hearts that were in the grip of oppression.
Soon, it became a furnace that burned Deity
Of Oppression and Bangladesh was born.
Copyright ©
Osman Gani
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