write revolutions on the wings of history (poem)

No stove burns in any house here,

Still you see the rising smoke from the houses.

Palaces tops kiss the sky, but

No one gets a dwelling here  .

The greenery seen all around here,

Raise your eyes, look the spreading desert there.

People who sleep on footpath side by side,

See the open sky above them.

You have burnt them one by one,

 Sparing none

See the rising sparks from those ashes.

Now dead bodies are awake from those ashes,

See their clenched fists rising in the sky.

The castles will be converted to rubble,

The ruins will tell the stories of all the wreckage.

 The masses sleeping hungry stomach

Will write revolutions on the wings of history.