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Prologue



This spring equinox-

When glorious sun is high;

Plants are in flowers,

And blue clear is the sky.



Sweet showers of march,

Bring blooming daffodils;

Flowers have sprung up,

And the small sparrow sings.



Fragrance is in air;

The most thrilling fair breeze,

Makes it delightful-

And blossoms all the trees.



Nation is a mass,

Of blooms and grass dense,

Glows with v'rnal colors;

And a rigid violence.



Stanzas



Tempestous revolts,

Are gaining momentum;

Violence is at peak,

And peace is at bottom.



Country is engulf'd,

In the flames of passion;

Inormous thunders,

Bloodshed, liberation.



In midst o' these revolts,

I lay in the prison;

To forty-fifth day-

Day of my ex'cution.



Under this gold sky,

Beside this silent sea-

But I, BHAGAT SINGH,

Like a cat will not flee.



I stand with tied hands;

Like a pard I stand here;

Prepared to accept,

By Britishers my bier.



Ribbons of blue waves

Seem to leap out from sea;

Glowing sun in sky,

He says good-bye to me.



The Hyena foemen,

Are robed in scarlet coats-

Butress my blood-lust,

Butress me to devote.



As sun glares from sky;

The blood thirsty men i' glee,

Cast an ex'crable,

Aggressive glance at me.



I heed not at all,

I'll linger on and on;

Until my strength, my,

Soul and my self has gone.



The dusk at last falls-

It's the last dusk of mine;

Sea's of night color,

Sky's the color o' wine.



I salute my flag,

And my dear motherland;

I feel a glow o' pride

To be where I now stand.



My thunderous cry-

"Inquilab Zindabad",

Breaks the silence o' sea,

Here in the dusk blood clad.



Epilogue



Years hence when bright sun,

And the thrilling fair breeze;

And sweet show'rs of March,

Will blossom all the trees...



The sky will be clear,

And fragrance in the air;

In nation of ours,

Peace will be everywhere.



I may not be there,

But I pray to God that-

No fierce conflicts,

Should make anyone sad.



My beloved nation-

I owe my life to you;

I die for your sake,

And lived my life for you.