Hiccups come whooshing like arrows,
Bowed backs, tension-stringed souls,
The tension stored from the time immemorial,
And the sobs go squelching.
Ye squeak only, bad marksmen!
Your shots just firecrackers
around the towers of the exploiters,
The towers hanging sprucely, with talons.
Tag-rags! Thou from yore,
From womb to the grave,
Cry just one by one;
Individually and separately,
Pouring saline anguish on wasted cheeks.
Ever eager to attack
the heavenly vaults for the evils all;
Hands ready to break His head,
Never but the real cause lying nearest.
You murder prophets easily,
Never but support the champion of liberty,
So you remain as ever,
Ugh, historically the same beaten class!
Yoke fellows! Please let Him rest,
If eager to weep yet,
Then cry ghoulishly in a chorus,
Like Shiva’s drumbeats.
Or waste not anguish in tears,
And noises that fall on ears deaf,
Shout Tally Ho! For history’s sake,
Let it progress by a different type of change.
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