The young ones rallied : "Let us set out
for the pilgrimage of love, for the pilgrimage of strength."
A cascade of thousands of voices roared :
"We shall conquer this world and the world beyond."
The object was not clear to everyone,
though they stood together in their zeal.
The impetus of their collective and driving will
taught them to defy danger and death.
They no more asked the way to take, they
their mind no more had doubt,
Their feet no more knew fatigue.
The soul of their deceased leader lived
within and without them :
He had indeed transcended death and gone
beyond the reach of life.
They walked through that field where seeds were sown,
They marched past that granary where the harvest was stored
And upon that barren land where
Skeleton-like bodies squat, hungry of life.
They roamed through streets of cities crowded with men,
Wandered through a crowdless void
Where dumb past remains mum with shattered glory on its lap.
They went along the dwellings of denizens unknown to fortune
Where the shelter mocked at the sheltered.
The travelled through path to path long hours of sun-burnt May.
When the light grew dim in the dusk
they enquired with the knower-of-Time :
"Is that, yonder, the steeple of our ultimate hope ?"
He replied : "Alas, no : it is but the fading glow of the setting sun
on the top of the evening sky."
The young ones urged : "Don't halt, O friends,
across the blind and tenebrous night
We must attain the deathless realm of light."
They marched on in the dark.
The way seemed to know its own significance,
Even the dust below the feet by its mute touch
seemed to indicate the path.
In silence, heaven-bound flights of constellations seemed to sing :
"Companions, march forward."
The celestial voice of the leader reached their ears : "Little time is left."