North is bleeding and crying in anguish
Many were massacred Incessantly
They hustled painstakingly and sowed the seeds, yet they couldn't harvest

Even the grasses weeped like a torrential rain in the month of August
They were Incapable leaving witness
Flapping and seeing the brutality and fatality

The lion army with a fragile heart full of rotten ideas
Remains like an Indian idol fixed in the temple of maharashtra
Craving for daily ransom of coconuts and lavish milk
For having been forgotten...