‘Khoon Phir Khoon Hai’ (translation: Blood is but Blood) is written by poet Sahir Ludhianvi and was published in his book “Aao Ki Koi Khwaab Bunein”. There are several poems in this book which were written by Sahir as a reaction to specific events in the 1950s and 1960s.
“Khoon Phir Khoon Hai” was written as a reaction to the CIA instigated assassination of Patrice Lumumba, the first legally elected Prime minister of the Democratic Republic of the Congo and the hero of the Congolese Independence in 1961
Given below is the poem:
zulm phir zulm hai, badhta hai to miT jaataa hai
Khoon phir Khoon hai, Tapkega to jam jaayega
Khaak-e-sehra pe jame yaa kaf-e-qaatil pe jame
farq-e-insaaf pe yaa paa-e-salaasal pe jame
teGh-e-bedaad pe yaa laasha-e-bismil pe jame
Khoon phir Khoon hai Tapkega to jam jaayega
laakh baiThe koi chhup chhup ke kameeN gaahoN meiN
Khoon Khud deta hai jalaadoN ke maskan ka suraaGh
saazisheiN laaKh uRaati raheiN zulmat ka naqaab
le ke har booNd nikalti hai hatheli pe chiraaGh
zulm kii qismat-e-nakaarah-o-rusvaa se kaho
jab’r kii hikmat-e-purkaar ke eema se kaho
mehmal-e-majlis-e-aqwaam kii laila se kaho
Khoon diiwana hai, daaman pe lapak sakta hai
shola-e-tuNd hai, Khirman pe lapak sakta hai
tum ne jis Khoon ko maqtal meiN dabaanaa chaaha
aaj vo kuchaa-o-bazaar meiN aa nikla hai
kahiiN shola kahiiN naarah kahiiN patthar ban ke
Khoon chalta hai to rukta nahiiN sangeeno se
sar jo uThtaa hai to dabtaa nahiiN aaeeno se
zulm ki baat hi kya, zulm ki auqaat hi kya
zulm bas zulm hai, aaGhaaz se anjaam talak
Khoon phir Khoon hai, so shakl badal sakta hai
aisi shakleiN ke miTaaoo to miTaaye na bane
aise shole k bujhaao to bujhaaye na bane
aise naare k dabaao to dabaaye na bane
Repression is sill repression
Rising, it must flop
Blood is sill blood
Spilling it must clot.
Whether it clots on desert sands
Or upon assassin’s hands
On justice’s head or around shackled feet
On injustice’s sword or on the wounded corpse
Blood is still blood
Spilling, it must clot.
However much one lies in ambush
Blood betrays butcher’s hideout
Conspiracies may veil in thousand darkly mask
Each blood drop ventures out with burning lamp on its palm.
Tell oppression’s vain and blemished fate
Tell cruelty’s crafty Imam
Tell the UN Security Council
Blood is crazy
It can leap up to the cloak
It is inferno, it can flare up to burn grain-stock.
The blood you sought to suppress in abattoir
Today that blood moves out into street
Here an ember, there a slogan, there a stone
Once blood comes to flows
Bayonets are no avail
Head, once it is raised
Is not downed by law’s hail.
What is about oppression?
What is with its impression?
Oppression is, all of it, but oppression
From beginning to end
Blood is still blood
Myriad form it can assume
Forms such as are indelible
Embers such as are inextinguishable
Slogans such as are irrepressible.