Again the train pitched from the station, 

Singing softly in midnight silence. 

Tottering, swaying, whistle blowing, frolicking, 

Enjoying the cold valley-mountain air; 

That melodious sarod instrument accented with sharp wind gusts, 

The peal of rain in dust storms coming, 

Like the modulation of a wave, like a mermaid’s melody, 

Chanting thousands of songs in every tone, 

Singing sweet lullabies to children,

Showing golden dreams to young girls, 

Stumbling, bending, humming, reeling, 

Clamoring out in joy to the beat of small bells, 

Flirtingly flitting at every turn, coil, bend, 

Like a bride embarrassed by her own charms,

Glittering, trembling in night darkness, 

Spilling mercury on the rails far ahead, 

As if a royal marriage procession at midnight, 

Coming in ecstasy, echoing festive music, 

Spilling sparks here and there in the air,

Making flowers rain upon the hem of the billows of air, 

Speeding up, step by step, continually, 

Gradually showing its real shape, 

Involuntarily mounting the mountain’s chest, 

As if a serpent slithering ecstatically upon the ground,

As if a star, broken up, rushing from heaven, 

Coming down from the mountains to the fields, 

Whirlwind-like, swelling up over crops, 

Gathering dust-storm force in the jungle, 

Making stars that light night tremble,

Startling wind birds in their nest, 

Twisting in tumult,

Recalling the anger of ancient gods,

With flash-lightning, like Rakhsh, unbridled,

Jumping ditches, galloping away from the hills, 

In pastures flowing like sweet-gaited streams,

In valleys, hovering like a cloud,

Showing as the reflection of the waterfall on a hill,

Seeming like Moses, the Lamp of Sinai, on a desert,

Shaking its head in rapture, its hair dishevelled, 

Strumming the instrument of eternity in joy.

Raining fire from its mouth in fury,

Crawling, twisting, rolling, restless, panting heavily,

Exciting the hidden fire of its heart,

By no cause offended, irritated, ruffled, 

Beating the world-heart with frequent cries,

On the river bridge continually flashing, calling out,

Proud of causing such an alarm,

Showing a string of lamps in the middle of the river,

Making particles of sand shine on the shore, 

Running fast, suddenly rushing into the tunnel’s mouth,

Singing out for joy, roaring, clanging,

Ahead of it pouring out glances fraught with search,

Worried from frightful scenes of night

Like a criminal afraid, shrinking back, 

Like a pauper trembling in the cold,

Here and there establishing its authority of speed,

Sending a life-wave through desert and town,

Scattering a darkness veil on passing scenes,

Bringing new vistas to the eye,

Destroying the writings of past ages on the heart’s pages,

Etching halcyon dreams of present and future,

Dropping scorn upon senseless rocks,

Smiling at mountains, looking the sky in the eye,

Tearing to pieces the evening-darkness hem, 

Raining arrows upon Night’s castle;

If anything comes into its range, bringing it down,

Telling then the mysteries of Life’s unfolding,

Out of pride kicking the desert’s brow,

Flaunting the coyness of a fast gait, 

Unfurling a banner like a rebellious wave,

Pressing ahead fearlessly with a typhoon-like thunder,

A revolution in each motion,

Singing of humankind’s greatness,

At every step with cannons’ thunder-stroke, 

The echo of whizzing bullets,

Wild drums ripping the air,

Rent by the full-mouthed bugle’s voice,

—Going forward, flying without danger or dread,

To make the mind-blood of a fiery-tongued poet boil.

1933

.

From: Āhang (Melody; 1938). Dihlī: Āzād Kitāb Ghar. 1956.. pp. 39 – 43

Rāt aur rel is quoted in full in Urdu Poetry, 1935-1970