A man,
Bent half with his staff
But head still standing tall,
With a smile that'll even make the sick heal,
With his thoughts even the mightiest would stumble to fall,
Who worked for the country selflessly with joy and zeal,
Helping the Indians to get free from the clutches of slavery,
With him India touched the skies n with independence the tiranga started to fly high and high and high,
60 years passed so quickly,
And yet people didn't find a way to live freely,
Still under the greatest evil corruption,
Which it's too hard to get out from,
Again,
A man arise following the footprints of that old man,
Bringing together the unity of his countrymen,
To make his motherland even better than heaven,
Striking the kings of the country with his non violent fight,
Trying to heal the people's plight,
Oh god, help this man of 72,
Who has made his mind to do or die,
To bring back the lost glory in his time,
So that the crown of the golden bird would once again shine……
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem