Nari (Woman) - Kazi Nazrul Islam

Shammyer gan Gai, Amar chokhkhe purush-romoni Kono bhedabhed nai.Bishshe ja kichu mohan srishti Chiro kollankor, Ordhek tar koriyache nari Ordhek tar nor. Bishsher ja kichu ja elo Pap tap bedona oschrubari, Ordhek tar aniyache nor Ordhek tar nari. Norok kundo boliya ke toma Kore Nari heyo gayn, tare bolo, adi pap nari nohe She je nor-shoytan. Othoba pap je - shoytan je - Nor nohe nari nohe, Klib she, tai she nor or narite Shoman mishiya rohe. E bishshe joto phutiyache ful, Foliyache joto phol, Nari dilo tahe Rup-rosh-modhu-gondho shunirmol. Tajmoholer pathor dekhecho, Dekhiacho tar pran? Ontore tar Momtaj nari, Bahirete Shajahan. Gayner lokhmi, ganer lokhmi, Shoyshsho-lokhmi nari, Shushoma-lokhmi narii firiche Rupe rupe shonchari. Purush eneche dibosher jala Topto roudro-daho, Kamini eneche jamini-shanti Shomiron, baribaho. Diboshe diyache shokti-shahosh Nishithe hoyeche bodhu, Purush esheche modhu-trisha loye Nari jogayeche modhu. Shoyshsho khetro urbor holo, Purush chalalo hol, Nari shei mathe shoyshsho ropiya Korilo shushaymol. Nor bahe hol, nari bohe jol Shei jol-mati mishe, Foshol hoiyya folia uthilo Shonali dhaner shishe. Shorno Rouppo-bhar, Narir ongo-porosh lobhiya Hoyeche olongkar. Narir birohe, narir milone Nor pelo kobi pran, Joto kotha tar hoilo kobita Shobdo hoilo gan. Nor dilo khuda, nari dilo shudha Shuday-khuday mile, Jonmo lobhiche mohamanober Mohashishu tile tile. Jogoter joto boro boro joy, Boro boro obhijan, Mata bhogni o bodhuder Tayge hoiyyache mohian. Kon rone koto khun dile nor, Lekha ache itihashe, Koto nari dilo shithir shidur Lekha nai tar pashe. Koto mata dilo ridoy upari Koto bon dilo sheba, Birer sriti-stombher gaye Likhiya rekheche keba? Kono kale eka hoyni ko joyi Purusher torobari, Prerona diyache, shokti diyache Bijoy-lokhmi nari. Raja koriteche rajjo shashon Rajare shashiche rani, Ranir dorode dhuyia giyache Rajjer joto glani. Purush Ridoyhin, Manush korite nari dilo tar Ordhek ridoy rin. Dhoray jader josh dhore na ko Omor mohamanob, Boroshe boroshe jader shorone Kori mora utshob. Kheyaler boshe tader jonmo Diyache bilashi pita, Lob-kushe bone tajiyache Ram, Palon koreche Shita. Nari she shikhalo shishu-purusher Sneho prem doya-maya, Dipto noyone poralo kajol Bedonar ghono chaya. Odbhut rupe purush purush Korilo she rin shodh, Buke kore tare chumilo je jon Tare korilo oborodh. Tini Nor-obotar, Pitar adeshe jononire jini Katen hani kuthar. Parsho firiya shuyechen aj Ordho-narishshor, Nari chapa chilo etodin Aj chapa poriyache nor. She jug Hoyeche bashi, Je juge purush dash chilo na Narira chilo dashi. Bedonar jug, manusher jug, Shammyer jug aji, Keho rohibe na bondi kaharo Uthibe dongka baji. Nor jodi rakhe narire bondi Tobe er por juge, Apnari rocha oi karagare Purush moribe bhuge. Juger dhormo ei, Piron korile - she piron eshe Pira debe tomakei. Shono Morter jib, Onnere joto koribe piron Nije hobe toto klib. Shorno-rouppo olongkarer Jokhkho-purite nari, Korilo tomay bondini, bolo Kon she ottyachari? Apnare aj prokasher tobo Nai she baykulota, Aj tumi bhiru Arale thakiya nepoththo koto kotha. Chokhe Choke aj chahite paro na Hate ruli, paye mol, Mathar ghomta chire phel nari Bhenge phel o shikol. Je ghomta toma' koriyache bhiru Orao she aboron, Dur kore dao dashir chinho Oi joto abhoron. Dhorar Dulali meye, Fero na to ar giridori bone Shakhi-shone gan geye. Kokhon ashilo "pluto" jomraj Nishith-pakhay ure, Dhoriya tomay purilo tahar Adhar bibor-pure. Shei she adim bondhon tobo Shei hate acho mori, Morone pure; namilo dhoray Shei din bebhabori. Bhenge jompuri naginir moto Ai ma patal phuri, Adhare tomar poth dekhabe ma Tomari bhogno churi. Purush-jomer khudar kukur Mukto o podaghate, Lutaye poribe o choron-tole Dolito jomer shathe. Etodin shudhu bilale omrito Aj proyojon hobe, Je hate piyale omrito She hate kut bish dite hobe. Shedin Shudur noy, Je din dhoroni purusher shathe Gahibe narir joy.

I sing the song of equality; In my view gender difference is essentially a triviality.Everything that is great in the world, all the works, beneficial and good, half must be credited to woman, and to man half only we should. All the vice or bad in the world, and the pain or flowing tear, for half, man should be blamed, the other half only woman should bear. Who belittles you as woman, connecting you to Hell's flame? Tell him that for the first ever sin not woman, but man must carry the blame. Or, it may be that sin or Satan is in reality neither man or woman; Satan is gender-neutral, so it flows equally in woman or man. All the flowers blossomed in the world, and all the fruits grown, isn't in beauty, nectar and fragrance of those woman's contribution? Have you seen Taj Mahal's marble? It's spirit, have you seen? At the heart of it Momtaj, woman; outside is Shahjahan, the King and lover so keen. The fortune of knowledge, or of music, or, the fortune of all harvest, woman's grace has made it so worthwhile, flowing from every home and nest. In the hardship of day and its scorching heat, you can see reflection of man; in the soothing breeze and in peace of night, who shines but woman? During the day she is source of strength. She glows in affection at night; when man needs comfort and love, her grace and sweetness flow to make his life bright. With man behind the plough, the crop field became bountiful, indeed; the greenery was only more beautiful, as woman sowed the seed. Man carries the plough, woman carries the water; from soil and water mixed together, the crop grows in abundance, ears of paddy - like blooming heather. Of course, the metals - gold and silver: ordinary otherwise; those become fancy jewelry with woman's touch that underlies. In longing for woman, or in her communion, man found where the poets' hearts belong, as his words became poetry and sounds turned into song. Man's present - the passion; woman's is affection - with the communion that hungry loves entail, comes the children - all magnificent from man the great that even angels hail. All the great victory of the world and all the grand voyages, gained grandeur and nobility from sacrifice of mothers, sisters, and wives, throughout the ages. How much blood man has offered is recorded in annals of history; how many women became widow - No record of that - Is it a mystery? How many mothers poured their hearts, and how many sisters did serve? the memorials of heroes - great or small do not show that - do you not observe? Victory hasn't kissed man's sword, because of the valor of man alone; the inspiration and pride woman brought to men, that should also be known. While king rules the kingdom and queen rules the king, the misery and sadness go away, joy and happiness her grace does bring. Man! heartless, like a stone; to make human out of him, woman gave half of her heart as loan. All the great celebrities, immortal - whose fame knows no bound; we celebrate in their memory regularly, every year around. They came to this world, as at moment's passion they were fathered; but Raam found shelter in jungle, while all the care and nurture Sita gathered. Wasn't it the woman who taught baby-"men" love mercy and compassion? Didn't she touch their eyes with kohl as a shadow of her sad affection? Man paid that debt off in a very strange way; holding on lap she who kissed him, behind curtain and wall, she was put away. Man the great; Is he so, really? who cuts open his mother's throat at the command of his Muni father, bending his knee? In the world's bed, half the deity: woman just turned the side; so far woman has taken enough, now man will be confined. Gone is that age, when man was the master to enslave woman in his wish's cage. This age is of empathy, of being human, of equality is this new time; no one would be the other's prisoner - don't you hear that chime? If man imprisons woman, then the turn will come sure; in the same prison he built, he will rot and die without a cure. Take this lesson - a wisdom always right and true, if you make suffer someone, suffering will catch up with you. Listen! you the creature of this earth! the more you oppress others, your humanness? gradually, there will be dearth. In the dungeon of treasure with jewelry of silver and gold, who confined you, O woman, who is that animal with heart so cold? No more agitation or bewilderment to express yourself any more; now you are timid, vulnerable, and speak only from behind the wall or door. You can't look eye to eye, and still wear bracelet and anklets - the prisoner's symbol; tear off the veil of yours, unchain yourself, it has taken enough toll. The veil that made you timid, let that go away; all those ornaments and symbols of servitude, throw away, throw away. Woman! To this world precious you really are! Don't roam in jungle or to sing to trees you wander afar. When did the Regent of Death come flying on the wing of night's shade, snatched you to captivity in its dungeon where nobody can raid. In that bondage of old time, you are still living dead; from that time world's light is stolen and our vision is obscure in dread. Come like a lightening, O mother, breaking away from that pit; your broken grass bracelets will keep your path lit. The animal, that is man's hunger - at the fling of your leg, will drop dead at your feet, and together, with smashed undertaker, will earnestly beg. Your ambrosia all of us enjoyed, now different is the need, the hand that offered ambrosia before to the monsters must now offer hemlock, indeed. Not very far is that cherished day, when with homage to man, to woman also homage, the world will pay.

Original source : http://www.nazrul.org/nazrul_works/farooq_trans/t_naz_woman.htm