When I walk along the streets, footpaths and platforms,
When I traverse the petty shops and workers’ dorms,
I witness the historical conspiracy,
For which I possess no ecstasy.
There are a great many Gates to Heaven,
And around this Garden of Eden,
There exists unthinkable destitution,
Which has no good reputation.
On my right flank, I see skyscrapers,
Of the kind that are written only in mythical papers,
On my left flank, I see slums, sewage, and disease.
Onlookers of these cannot rest with ease.
How is the country, you may ask;
As a patriot, it is a simple task
For me to say the country is great.
Yet, what follows is its fate.
This country has a great many peasants.
The ants are the Osiris of the nation’s pleasant.
Their surplus is devoured by the locusts,
Remorseless and the cause of society’s rusts.
After my visit to my native village,
I return to the city after an age.
There I find a great many flocks of sheep,
Who do not know to think deep.
When they think deep, they will realize,
They are slaves to the draconian cries
Of their consumerist lords,
Who reside in industrial centers and tour in Fords.
In my place, I saw luxuries and beggars.
I go places, and I see crowds in the city.
Vendors, homeless and muggers,
In the capital city, and everything is now a commodity.
While some live with awesome powers,
Others exist in society and cower.
This nation has not yet attained progression,
Still gripped by the death stroke to civilization.
I paint a grim picture of today,
And throughout history, this has been the way.
From cavemen, to lords and kings,
Countrymen, now is the time to discard your binding rings.
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