The streets are hot with riots,
A turbulent procession is going on.
A wave of hot blood is going down the heads of a few rebels.
Suddenly,
the smell of gunpowder.
Suddenly,
the seven heavens tremble.
Suddenly,
the rebels fall.
In the hot July heat,
someone gave the country-donkey,
a terrible sacrifice.
Who has kept the news?
Who remembers it?
The bullet of tyranny pierced,
in the forehead of some rebel mother?
In pain,
a mother's lap fainted.
In pain,
a father's lips tingled with pride!
Who has kept the news?
Who has remembered it?
Who has attended the funeral?
The father has collected water,
hiding it and saying that he will float alone in the stream of pride when everyone leaves.

Mother country, donkey!
Such a big competition!
Disloyalty to the homeland?

The poet says,
You have gained power in the...