A
procession of flags of sun
In the
hands lifted to the furious skies
A storm
of revolution-
My
country a colony of suns-
We
fling into valleys of hearts, on to peaks of mountains
Burning
songs-
We eat
sun, we drink sun, we burn in the sun
Day in
day out.
We are
moving bodies of iron;
We are
metallic men-
Our
hearts we dedicated to the colonies of sun,
We
squeezed the inside animal
In
rivers of sweat, flowing like the spirit of Vedas
And
dried them on strings of sun-
Holding
flags of sun joined the unending journey.
Through
streets, towns, villages that we pass
On lips
of anaemic flowers blossoming
on
helpless trees peels of laughter;
Stretch
their naked bodies, heaps of grain in the fields
cry
with million voices
when
their parents walk away with folded hands
with
mere turbans of sunshine,
plough
piercing the heart of earth
raises
a painful shout-
look !
if the sky flings the sun as a challenge on man,