No chains did he share,
With thousand chains there,
A loin cloth, two breads,
Under the sky-bare.
His gypsy lore, sets earthly ore,
As he had no cause to self care,
Pregnant mothers, innocent sisters,
And orphan brothers were there.
A vow to sow, the seed of iron will,
For having fortitude, to receive evil and good,
And a fire to ignite the latent -hood,
He signs the bond to make his temple a Home.
He implants waves with tsunami's surge,
To go ahead with proletariat's march,
For the equal share of Nature's provision,
To her inmates with bread and peace.
A mind, he cherishes to root in each soil,
To have the liberty of the soul in life's tell,
A tie consciously unconscious for all brethren,
The willow echo in this echoing green.
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