This poem is about the assassination of Bongobondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, written by Mir Gul Khan Nasir on the 29th August 1975. He was in the Hyderabad Jail at that time.

Gul Khan Nasir was a prominent politician, poet, historian, and journalist from Balochistan. He was at the forefront of the Baloch Nationalist Movement.

Sohb Kuja Int (Where is the Morning) 

 

Tawár o gwánk o haííá o azán int

                            Hajúme “rang koreñ” šádmán int

Gwašant: Sohb int! Bale gindáñ gwazindá

                            Syáh o tármaheñ šap muj muján int

Tripán int šap girok, gungeñ girande

                            Gwaše dír mañ mujjáñ jammar drahdán int

Bale zirgwát á nambí in a int bú

                            Gwaše honání ač gwarm á wazán int

Ganok rangán! Kujá int tangaheñ sohb;

                            Syáheñ šap taningá xurxušán int

Watan páleñ gihmardání taningá

                            Yazídeñ sámráj haďďán ďuršán int

Gyábeñ Bangladeš á tangahená

                            Padá honígeñ túpáne rudán int

Padá, sámráj i dallání dil i band

                            Mañ šáhr o hulkaháñ ás mán dayán int

Mujíb; Á nám o nangání watanpál

                            Watí honáñ mañ, hákání talán int

Gwará iš dáta dalláñ šúm ročeñ

                            Qabá suhreñ, goñ tírí takmagán int

Darí dalleñ dabang čukčen kutantí

                            Hussayn á goñ Yazíd i dástán int

Yaleñ beláñ! Yazídáñ jáh byárit

                            Šume xayr á mañ, áwání zyán int

Čo kárč o zráhbareñ teğ o kaťťár á

                            Dapp á áwání, sámráj i zubán int

Mağawzant, šítagiš zarrání purrant

                            Komakkiš sámráj goñ palťanán int

Watan páleñ yalání kušt o koš á

                            Siláhiš báz o wák o wass i mán int

Pazá sámráj i dalláni dil á nest

                            Ač áwáñ táhrmah rošnáeñ jahán int

Šamah á ázátí i nyalant baláná

                            Kušantí har kujá gindant balán int

Mujíb; Á sarmačáreñ banglabandú

                            Mañ tírání dapp á goñ Xanumán int

Padá ázátí i berak šugún int

                            Padá sámráj pa mukr o čamán int

Padá tír o tupangáñ goñ šará int

                            Padá “ Sonáreñ Dhartí ” bungirán int

Yaleñ belán! Hameš ant dawr i telánk

                            Hame ďawl mai watan mátí sučán int

Mačárit o yaláñ! Gámáñ madárit

                            Baleke ráh ča gřínbokeñ grán int

Mujíbání na bant hon gár hičbar

                            Watan pálání sass i imtihán int

Na mánít zulm o zor i šapp na mánít

                            Baleke syáh o tháhmorint, gwazán int

        Nasír gindít dil i čammáñ goñ záhir

            Šume sob i alam gwáto warán int 

Cries and shouts and hurried calls

A colourblind crowd is celebrating 

They say, “It’s dawn” but when I look at life

The dark, black night is in full swing

Lighting strikes and a voiceless thunder

It seems as if clouds are raining somewhere far off

But the smell of rain doesn’t permeate the air

Instead, blood is rising up in a ditch

O fools! Where is the bright morning?

The enraged night is still here and strong 

The Yazeed-like imperialists are still

Crushing the bones of the valiant patriots 

In the populated and scenic Bangladesh

Once again a storm of blood is rising

Again the agents of imperialism

Are setting cities and villages on fire

Mujeeb, the celebrated patriot

Is sprawled on the ground in a pool of his own blood

He’s been dressed by the accursed (slaves of imperialism)

In a red coat decorated with bullets (as medals)

The contemptuous agents of foreigners (imperialists) have committed genocide

Again, it is the story of Hussain against Yazeed

O courageous comrades! Be privy to the Yazeedi nature

In your (unity and) wellbeing is their loss

The mouth (they speak through) might be theirs

But the tongue in it is that of the imperialists

They’re vain because their pockets are full of money

And their aid is the imperialists and (their) platoons

For the extermination of the brave patriots

They’ve been provided with countless weapons and forces 

There’s no mercy in the hearts of these cowards

It is because of them that the world is dark 

They don’t allow the flame of freedom to burn

Dousing it wherever they see it alight

Mujeeb, the fearless Bangla Bandoo (Friend of Bangladesh)

Is infront of the firing squad with his family

Again, the flag of freedom is flying at half mast

The imperialists are back to their old tricks and deceptions 

Again, conflicts are being resolved with the gun

Again, The Golden Land (Sonar Dhartee) is on fire

O brave friends! This is how time shoves us

In the same manner my motherland (Balochistan) is also burning

Don’t be timid O Warriors! Don’t stop,

Even though the path is tough and filled with hardships

Mujeeb’s blood will, at no cost, go to waste

This is just a test of the steadfastness of the patriots

It won’t last; this night of terror won’t last

Even though it’s dark and foggy at the moment

Nasir sees clearly, with his heart

The flag of your victory waving in the wind