Roads without self consciousness, carrying the load of all and sundry beings;
Rivers, which have no awareness of things floating on their bodies.
Newspapers carried behind bicycles like gone fish,
And people like dried up fountains in dilapidated palaces-
Oh! My country, I know what you are suffering. My sole ambition
Is only to make my whole life into one drop of tear
And place it in you palm-

One road here, and one light there, does not make even a morsel of food
For the frothing ocean of your hungry masses.

Even if all your fields combine whole heartedly and yield their full harvests
It cannot meet the terrible hunger gnawing into the flesh brutally.
In a land where rivers leap, like white rabbits on stones in a land where
Oxen gallop like waves unhampered b rudders, what is famine?
Except a created phenomenon.

O my country, this ocean is a formidable lion; should it wake up all will
Be wiped out within the twinkle of an eye,
Hyderabad will not see another morning-

The Bay of Bengal is a child in your lap,
My heart wild poetry in your map. I will remove
The eyes of elephants and graft them to rats,
Pluck the tails of rats and connect them to the elephants.
I will plant the eyes of tigers in the faces of my people and insert
The sabre teeth of lions into their brains.
Look! At the Charminar now it is not pigeons but stones that will rain-
- Seshendra Sharma
http://seshendrasharma.weebly.com