Song From The Streets Poem by Bireswar Halder

Clean the nation, the motto makes waves
You and I eye on a dirt-free zone of smiles
We'll breathe free and pure, let's join hands
Tidy and sanctity will give us Godliness

Look at the poor, the haggardly, pale urchins
Sharing stale, stinking food with the street tykes
They make a separate peace inside the fetid dustbin
They can't do otherwise, cruelty hems them round.

The wretched urchins are death-in-life
No love fell upon them; love is a martyr for them
They dream of the shimmer glowing in the palaces
Their home is this pavement, the sky is their roof.

They gaze indifferently on to the sky
Cursing the fate, mocking at own birth
Where is beauty on this earth, they ask
Or is paradise only for the rich and powerful?

Dear Cleanliness, tell us the truth
How will we survive in this clean land?
Will we be swept to the sea or burned down?
Will the nation be cleaned if we're cleaned off?