O my men, sleep not, sleep not,
Sleep is the other name of death.
And death, in no way helpful
To fulfil your dream.
And I know dream is there in you,
And in the dream I know, there is the truth.
In the truth, there is perfection of life,
Remember your history, history of life,
Remember your geography, dear men,
And go, go to drive out the clouds,
Go and go to bring the sun to the light.
The sun is within you, dear men,
So many colours are there in the sun,
And it is all for you, being the eligible son.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem