Do not alight on my heart like flies
From the rubbish
Does not bite as rats bite bread,
Rise like swords
From flames of sufferings:
Write on the walls of the universal space
The date when the flies chased away the falcons;
Harken to the burning words
In the hearts of the grain
Lying in fields that call you:
He who bears the plough
on his shoulders and earns his hunger
also earns the right
to appease his hunger
if the sorrow of the crops
that rose this year is not appeased
in the coming year
only fists bearing sickles
will grow in the fields.
I have become your road
Which dreams for your marching footsteps,
All of us must walk through the storm;
A small star cannot make a day –
We want a burning sun.
I shall become your flag and fly in the skies
Come let’s go
But do not alight on my heart
Like flies from the rubbish –
- Seshendra Sharma