It's no song to soothe weariness of a song of fun
It merges life and death it's the fire-lute's turn

It is infinite warmth transcending insults and hurts
It's the rage of fire welling out of the stifled hearts

It's the song of gods' churning the sea for nectar
It's the drinking of the great poison death itself of conquer

It's the sentiment that sheds all indigence, fear and dearth
It's that stamp of one form one sap one colour on the earth

It's a dire insult to see humanity faint and surrender
It's a mission to pound to dust the pride of the oppressor

It's the roar of thunder to wake the sleeping swallow of life
It's the disciplined march to our rights through struggle and strife

It's the history that witnessed Naranarayan's indignity
It's the feisty urge to die for life and its totality

It's the strike of cruel pain that seeks to strifle life
It's the will to humble those who disgrace man's strife

It's to wash away the thousand hurts comes the deluge
It's the mother's dictate that in death we seek refuge.