Our share of the day to bear pleasures only
Of ceremonial band and parade and hoisted flag in the sky
In colors of saffron, white and green flying high
In spirit jovial, jubilant and mirthful but with a sigh
For every drop of wine gets better after fermentation
And every drop of tear tastes sweeter after perseverance and persecution
That our old guards were subjected to, how can we forget
The day follows night and night day and mist after mist
Then a blue clear sky with the sun lurking in the east
And the little birds twittering and flowers blooming and swaying on the way
Chanting vande mataram and jai hind, oh! what an independence day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem