A Brahmin whispers, "This year is good."
A Brahmin whispers, "This year is good."
The night of tyranny will soon recede,
In every hearth, a fire will now feed.
No child will weep from hunger's sting,
Each soul will find the peace that dreams can bring.
The storm of hate will cease its bitter blast,
Love's harvest will enrich the land at last.
We trust, no clamor will disturb the air,
No cruelty, no bloodshed anywhere.
No one will suffer frost or sun's harsh glare,
In my own land, no homeless soul will share.
The web of promises, so newly spun, is good,
The guide proclaims, "This year is good."
To keep the heart content, as Ghalib knew, is good,
To keep the heart content, as Ghalib knew, is good.
To keep the heart content, as Ghalib knew, is good.
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