Reflection
I did not supply the explosives
Nor ideas for that matter
It was you trod with iron heels
Upon the ant-hill
And from the trampled earth
Vengeance was born
It was you who struck the beehive
With you lathi
The sounds of the scattering bees
Exploding in your shaken visage
Blotched red with fear
When the victory drum started beating
In the heart of the masses
You mistook for a person and trained your guns
Revolution reverberated from the four
Horizons.
***
January 1985
Translated by N Venugopal