O! My Beloved Country!

This is Seshendra Sharma , my father's poem

Your rivers are flowing in the hills,

Your dates in the pages of history

And you in the dirty slums.

I ask you �" when do the dreams of the sickles in the fields be fulfilled?

When the centuries of hunger of the millions be appeased.

All the flags are flying in the sun only for the workers

All the pens are drinking bottles of ink only to express your dreams

In the name of October Revolution only

All the voices are taking oath

But when do your factories become our pillars of triumph

When will the lotuses blossom in the rugged palms of the workers?

How many theories reined under this sky /

 and washed the entire earth becoming great deluges-

how many swords of how many religions clashed in this old earth

but the hammers which are ornaments of the human muscles, when do they beat the skies of the Bourgeoisie countries in pieces

and when do  they make the sky rain storms of stars-

we are all people , we are all dreams of this country

The complete will of this country is our voice only-

Innumerable days we washed our earth with our tears

and gave the power writing with our blood.

That very power has become death rope around our neck

When does this atrocious day set-

I am asking- when does the great day come when our self  respect now being crushed under the iron heels of Govt.Officers and power politics will take revenge.

When do rise again like a great orb of sun with all its glorious rays from the sea-     

-Seshendra Sharma