My kids ask me, 'O dad,
why don't we have home?
Why do we, like gypsies,
from place to place roam?

See, birds fly; before night
they come back in nest;
Only we have no home
on earth to take rest.'

How do I tell my kids:
one day I too had
a country; when I remember
it, I feel so sad!

How do I tell them: the
rich robbers of earth,
like dragons, have swallowed
the place of my birth?

They come in the name of
democracy; so
we salute them, because
to democracy, who can say ‘No'?