I told baby I will come, with a toy not with gun;
I told beloved I will come, with a wear not shawl;
I told mother I will come, with bliss not mourning;
Baby a train, doll, car; partner saree red, blue, green; mom food, care, love desired.
Alas! !
All my desires now astray,
I came in cloth in colored deep saffron, white and Indian green;
Followed by a crowd, to one million they grew;
Marching feet a thunder cloud, a harbinger of something dire;
Reached quarter a mourning loud, a rain of tears flooded around;
Mon groan, wife faint and children sob, silence shawl my country now;
I say hem the sorry, hem grief, for I sacrificed in a county’s need.
I told on 7 June I will come, I came I promised, but in a body without a soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem