Between acceptance and non-acceptance
Don't keep me in the dark
Still, all are not finished
After much burning, we're the shining flowers
Our intense peace
In our own coupled kisses
In fists of our own hands
In our deep-rooted inevitable knowledge
Nevertheless, if the crisis is vociferous
The pride of Kalindi, incomprehensible discrimination
Get rolled on dust
This time, it's the sound of breaking the silence
Once I hear
Touch this hand
See
How great I'm awake
In the veins and roots
Let me hear the sound of breaking the expectation
I'm awake without name and introduction
In my village
That's the ancient hillock, the birds of evening fly away
In the lonesome hilly outcry
Didn't you hear
That wailing and that sound in the rocky sun
It's our impassioned village
In the deep inside the seclusion
At the shore of Yamuna
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem