Deep incisions mar soft cheeks
As the flood of hot sour tears flows
Naked poor souls die
Each passing seconds of breath
Who will hear the cry of the voiceless
The cry of silent dying destinies
Who will hear the cry of the voiceless
The age-long groping for liberation
Wake up! Wake up!

See weeping spirits strucked by hope terminating pains
See the fear ridden culture of suffering and smiling
Are you now sagging your once celebrated raised shoulders?
Who art bewitched you?
What has become of your pride of giants and giant of pride?
Sixty doesn't look good on you!
Wake up! Wake up!