My Lord! I don't blame you,
I don't blame even my fate,
If anything is to be blamed,
I blame my uncalled hate.
It's a victory day, what a painful day!
We are gathered here to celebrate,
The day followed by a red hot war,
We regret in aftermaths, but too late.
Alas! We could avoid this war!
No smile on the lips but eyes are filled!
Alas! We could not get rid of the hatred!
The dream of victory has been fulfilled,
I am a poor man, disabled in the war,
I came here like a limping insect,
You have some money and purchased a crutch,
Here comes the leader, the hero perfect!
He is a rich man on a nice wheelchair,
His eyes are red, did not sleep last night.
His face is pale and at all not fair,
Still promising our future is bright.
Crops still in the womb but infected
Air and water both are polluted,
Lost the war even after winning!
But the old hatred not yet diluted.
Oh greenery! Could you come back!
The acidic rains radio active in nature,
Look like tears of Adam and Eve,
How they regret their sons' caricature!
The leaders' congrats could not understand,
I could not see the beloved anywhere,
The maid of victory you are dead or alive?
She is in a coma, perhaps somewhere!