My heart bleeds up to remember,
The dead corpse of the martyrs,
The bloody twenty six / eleven in calendar,
O, God! Save them, souls never to tire.
O, God! Bless the brave souls, gigantic;
Sacrificed themselves for the nation,
From gateway of India to Taj majestic,
They died and died for the nation.
There are only two realities left,
God the result of higher imagination
And the soldiers, mighty and deft;
Both with supernatural and brave creation.
Considering the noble duties,
God, a higher and spiritual creator,
and the soldier, a spirit and soul of honesty,
with their noble and sacrificing vector.
O, God! Listen to me, and bless all with happiness,
Protect us from their evil thong,
As all are grateful to you for your kindness,
But there God is wrong.
O God! Bless those souls for a new season
trusting in God and nation, as their resolution.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem