Do not alight on my heart like flies

From the rubbish

Does not bite as rats bite bread,

Rise like swords

From flames of sufferings:

Write on the walls of the universal space 

The date when the flies chased away the falcons;

Harken to the burning words

In the hearts of the grain

Lying in fields that call you:

He who bears the plough

on his shoulders and earns his hunger

also earns the right

to appease his hunger

if the sorrow of the crops

that rose this year is not appeased

in the coming year

only fists bearing sickles

will grow in the fields.

I have become your road

Which dreams for your marching footsteps,

All of us must walk through the storm;

A small star cannot make a day –

We want a burning sun.

I shall become your flag and fly in the skies

Come let’s go

But do not alight on my heart

Like flies from the rubbish –

• Seshendra Sharma