India: A poem 

I am calm like the night 

When the storm is out of sight 

For the guns of rapine did not kill me 

I have survived for all to see 

Your palaces of stone were built 

From my earth that began to wilt 

When your touch of high treason 

Darkened each and every season 

I am the gold that was shorn 

The throne of a stifled dawn 

I am like the mildewed leaves 

That regain their sheen with every breeze 

I am the steel that made your ships 

The fire of quiet dignity on my lips 

I am the starving bird that does not die 

The ribs of cages crash with its cry 

I have posterity on my side 

With every whiplash I’ve learnt to rise 

Slept through the bondage but did not forsake 

That date with destiny to which I am awake