ভূমিকম্প- রবীন্দ্রনাথ ঠাকুর 

Alas, Earth, in your dark subterranean realm,

The blind enemy was hidden in disguise—  

Where you store your heap of gold, 

where beneath your veil  

You conceal hard iron, the dust of death’s messengers,  

They are but lumps of dirt, 

mere toys for Yama’s abode.

Above the surface, in the breeze’s sway,  

The fresh crop’s melody hums a verdant tune.  

In sorrow, in joy, in affection, in love,  

Heaven descends to earth,  

The seasons offer flowers and fruits,  

Your veil is stained with hues of incense-shadow,  

In the pirouette of life.

The secret sin you buried deep within,  

Its cover has trembled in all the layers today.  

The dwelling of faith, 

known to be true by all,  

You mingled it with dust in an instant,  

Severely disgracing the spirit of life,  

Subjecting it to the power of the lifeless.

However mighty the exterior,  

It cannot endure by pride alone.  

Weakness, with a sly grin, 

cracks the foundation—  

And suddenly, all gigantic achievements,

In the mocking laughter of humbler of pride*

Vanish like dreams.

O Earth, countless times  

you have unveiled this tale, age after age.  

Pride arose in grand form,  

Silently, in its core,  

The unseen venom of destruction crept in—  

And in a metaphorical drama,  

You have today expressed it in horrendous language.

True strength is indeed peaceful,  

Serene in its benevolence, conquering the world.  

Powerlessness, however, found a seat in your core—  

And its horror, its cruel ghastliness,  

Is without foundation within itself,  

Hence, it is so driven by violence.