Maoist Poem by Kanishka SricharanPratap

This land is ours.

Forests, hills, rivers, animals
And these ugly tribal people
All are ours.

That much you have taken from here
You have taken,
No more.

What you have done here
Is done,
No more.

Can not construct roads
Bridges
Schools
Towers
Hospitals any more...,
You can not bring light!

Much light
Is danger
To you
And also to us!

So what
If teachers, doctors
And other government employees
Did no duty!
It is right
If we get the tips.

By that
Ours meat, wine and women
Gun, bomb and mine...

We form our battalion
Kidnapping
And threatening
Young lads and ladies.
Create terror...
Loot treasure
Burn houses,
Blast bridges, towers
Train lines and police stations,
Behead... fire...
And massacre.

O' Government!
Its headmen!
You be there,
Loot...
That land is yours.

We are here
This land is ours!


Translated from Oida by
Subash Chandra Mohapatra