Their mind is a filthy dump where
dreaming is dangerous
Their body is a fetid rot where
loving is poisonous
Their heart is a woeful dungeon where
lighting is spurious...
Innocent they are born - unbiased, unknown
Neutral of themselves and their religion
Neutral of separation and union
Neutral of a Hindu or a Musalman...
They know not hatred, and know not anger
Of sins and Satans they are unaware
Cruelly yet they are born in the Nether.
For them, this Heaven turns the
Valley of Anathema
And hideous terrain from the
majestic panorama
Pines whistle not, livestock feed not,
and sing not the warblers
Bloom not orchards, smells not the musk,
and grow not conifers
Lifeless are luxuriant flora, and
exotic fauna
Flow-less are Jhelums, restless Dals,
snow-caps n'er luminant...
This is the land where Gods wish'd to be born
Where Mughals, Sikhs, and Royals felt re-born
Now this's that land curses befall heavy and dry
These tiny youngs on notice each heart will cry -
They're born to hear cries from explosion
They're born to live with deprivation
Of parents, ration, and nutrition
And languish in the Army prison
Or grow as the bomb in terror bastion...
From dark of Hades of affliction
From the abyss of ghastly subjection
They see the flights of birds across the sky
And hear their chirps of cheers as they fly by
They notice bold ascent of snowy crests
Theirs blithely suckling the empyrean breasts
Tears sable their stares, inconsolable they weep
Into the yawn of pain, heart plummets deep
Ceaselessly horrors they relive no help
These human children of the Supreme's fief...
The bites of creatures through the ghosts of sleep The eerie glows of night and canine yelp
And e'er on prowl the hunting eyes of death
Sledgehammers over and landmines beneath...
In want of food, of sleep, of rapture
With loads of hunger, trauma, and torture
These kids are dreaden'd to perish
Or raised to kill, or die for devils...
This is their life that never bends along the bends
This is their life that straightens not across the straights
Trekking of rough meanderings falling down wide cliffs
They're toss'd up perpetually between height and base
And condemn'd to the Heaven of damnation endless...
--- N P Samal
dreaming is dangerous
Their body is a fetid rot where
loving is poisonous
Their heart is a woeful dungeon where
lighting is spurious...
Innocent they are born - unbiased, unknown
Neutral of themselves and their religion
Neutral of separation and union
Neutral of a Hindu or a Musalman...
They know not hatred, and know not anger
Of sins and Satans they are unaware
Cruelly yet they are born in the Nether.
For them, this Heaven turns the
Valley of Anathema
And hideous terrain from the
majestic panorama
Pines whistle not, livestock feed not,
and sing not the warblers
Bloom not orchards, smells not the musk,
and grow not conifers
Lifeless are luxuriant flora, and
exotic fauna
Flow-less are Jhelums, restless Dals,
snow-caps n'er luminant...
This is the land where Gods wish'd to be born
Where Mughals, Sikhs, and Royals felt re-born
Now this's that land curses befall heavy and dry
These tiny youngs on notice each heart will cry -
They're born to hear cries from explosion
They're born to live with deprivation
Of parents, ration, and nutrition
And languish in the Army prison
Or grow as the bomb in terror bastion...
From dark of Hades of affliction
From the abyss of ghastly subjection
They see the flights of birds across the sky
And hear their chirps of cheers as they fly by
They notice bold ascent of snowy crests
Theirs blithely suckling the empyrean breasts
Tears sable their stares, inconsolable they weep
Into the yawn of pain, heart plummets deep
Ceaselessly horrors they relive no help
These human children of the Supreme's fief...
The bites of creatures through the ghosts of sleep The eerie glows of night and canine yelp
And e'er on prowl the hunting eyes of death
Sledgehammers over and landmines beneath...
In want of food, of sleep, of rapture
With loads of hunger, trauma, and torture
These kids are dreaden'd to perish
Or raised to kill, or die for devils...
This is their life that never bends along the bends
This is their life that straightens not across the straights
Trekking of rough meanderings falling down wide cliffs
They're toss'd up perpetually between height and base
And condemn'd to the Heaven of damnation endless...
--- N P Samal
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