A few years later,
India will be younger,
Than before, and more imagining;
Not be off to cut open,
By some anatomist to,
Suggest what lies inside,
For you may see yet,
Not feel, as the battles begin anew,
To set aside the moulds of the,
Consternations out of the mix,
Of the red and the blue,
For the younger blood;
And the sheer but queer,
Trials after trails in order to get,
Implantation of the tricolors to,
The places you could imagine,
Singing in chorus and yelling out,
“India is in my veins.”
“India is in my veins.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem