Under the amber sky she flows as far as the sea
her bank on the other side is shrunk as eye can see
I have seen joys rise like tide tears mingle in hers
she is Ganga the one river mother of all rivers.

On her ceaseless journey from high up to the bay
melts snow in her flow springs life from her clay
worshiped as holy mother yet spoiled by her sons
she is ravaged time again slayed by evil demons.

For ages she has nurtured life tilled green her shore
around her have sown hopes its timeless folklore
her soils have sculpted cornfields and images of goddess
she is now an ebbing tide end's shadows on her face.

Hear once her moaning waves her ripples' silent sigh
from the silts clogging her breast her beds going dry
dying groans of the mother poisoned in effluent
choked by her people's waste killed without relent.