Gorilla - 16 Poem by Seshendra Sharma

Night in this country is a nest woven of flames, and no person can ever sleep in it. Here, only rats but not dogs bark, lions here do not know how to roar, here stone can speak man has forgotten long ago the act of speech, the tongue has fled away from his mouth.
Here are only actors and no true men; for them life is only a scene; this country pulls out the man from his dreams, like the dentist extracts the tooth and in the bazaars corpses live in crowds
In a country of rats can history be on the scale of elephants? In the nation of brinjals can the civilization be of the elegance of Jack - Fruits? Look my comrades, how those deserted children are walking clutching to the sari of our country's scorching sun?
At once you faint, if a rupee is squeezed like herb and held to your nose-no, now become the guard made of the muscle of the new age you must put on the iron wings to dash against the ferocious winds, if your neck bends before others, and your legs cannot stand like two guns, you will not be of any use in my wars;
If you tell me you are thirsty, do you know what I will give you? A glass of blood.
I scan all metals searchingly to see which metal deserves to become your limbs friends, walk in the stars and leave the miry labyrinths; the earth on which you walk is a cooled star, you do not know how many such stars will cool down under your feet.
Give it to me, I shall adopt your sorrow as my child, but better know the human soul which has set foot on this planet for a great journey, always walks with its hands on the shoulders of death. The power of the weapon is in the hands that wield it. The substance of the human right is in the will to enjoy it - only when this truth dawns on your horizons the morning sky will split like a red pomegranate and the earth will bath happily in blood