I walk a path that has only nation first,
I will walk on it for ever and ever.
Never comes to a end and has no glow;
It is dark, cold and scary and I'm all alone.
I have to walk this path without any fear,
Why am I here and where am I?
Nothing to think about, but lots to do,
Reverse face of nation is not life, standing on head.
Born and brought up in the laps of Bal Thackeray,
The mad prophet of Hindus and Hinduism.
Bound to bath at the shores he chose,
I wish to find the light for this nation.
But still wandering these empty roads have no end.
Still no one here, and still all alone: I am.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem