The Defeat Of Blood Poem by Md Fazlul karim

Which way can these eyes truly see?
East, west, north, south —
or up there, into the endless blue sky?
Hearts of thieves, cloaked in clean white cloth,
have somehow become heroes.
Still, caught between desire and doubt,
our sense of right stays asleep.

Let them build their pointless palaces,
worship their dull, faded goddesses.
Once again, the heart's dome trembles
under control and a lack of love.
From this cruelty, freedom will rise —
a weapon made of human grace.
Hearts and marble floors
will be stained red and blue, without hesitation.

In the dirt of night,
man's ugliness takes shape.
In the purity of night,
a deep, tender love is found.
Mita, look back — even after a million years —
like a child with that pure, glowing smile,
you'll find heaven waiting
when all the fighting's done —
a love that fills the skies.

Look toward the sun,
toward the fresh, green trees.
See the golden Sonalu,
the wild Kadam in bloom.
The smell of rain and mud always returns.
Let the failed domes fall away —
Let unknown flowers bloom
deep in the forest.