the pens of good poets
find meaning
Singing whose songs of victory
the singers’ voices get blessed
In forming whose forms
the sculptors’ art attain glory
In
touching the dust of whose feet
the mother earth gets elated
They’re
heroic trumpets echoing in the sky
They
are men of truth and sacrifice
Gems
of the nation and immortals
They
are people pure and lives blessed .
Their
heroic voices resound in sea tides even now
Everyday
your streams of blood course in the morning
Your
liberals stories put Sindhur
On
the beautiful face of Lady India
You
are men of sacrifice who awakened,
Routed
wretchedness and rejuvenated
Nascent
nation unconscious sans vigour Pole
stars
shining in our hearts forever
You
are roses turned into ashes
In
the fire of freedom struggle
You
are tears of joy of Mother India
Not
dried up for time eternal
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