Still our eyes glitter with tears,
that drop on white canvas,
Will turn transparency to red;
The phase our loved ones,
Polish the canvas with white, some with green,
and some saffron;
Tribute the canvas,
that reflects the pure soul;
Held the canvas on the firm base,
Embarks the clotted blood that imparts brown fumes;
The rectangular piece having four edges of Geographical India,
Uplift the piece of brown fume on high Swadeshi aspirational Gandhian Lathi;
Fuse the dimensions in the liberal air;
where canvas sparks salutation in the sky.
Embellished canvas with 24 pyre sticks,
Anointed inside the Mahatma charka,
Stretch the rope, that reminds Bhagat singh;
Let's wave the three coloured canvas in liberal breeze,
Stretch your arms and body,
In the 1947 air,
Let's add the fumes of thanks;
With stagnant body and deep voice,
Forms group and row,
To show unity,
As same as Subhasha INA forming dignity;
For a moment,
Let's Join hands to feel the feeling of fraternity,
Where the colour blends to spark Indian purity:
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