The palace splendor, a shattered dream, life's joys laid down as sacrifice,
To uphold the Raghukul's gleaming pride, a thorny path, a final trice.
Now king is not king, nor subjects stand as subjects anymore,
Beneath the weight, all leveled low, no banner of equality to soar.
This steadfast valor, the waiting game, that every heart did deny,
Through stones it broke, in mountains vast, a new creation, reaching high.
This was the fruit of renunciation,
This was the fruit of renunciation,
The path of duty, a mountain to climb,
On one side, a spark, on the other, a storm of time,
This battle was strange, this battle was strange.
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