O God, your logic is no longer man’s logic.
You say something and man says something else.
When you say every man’s blood is red,
Man says, ‘And yet, the body is not the same.’
He finds reasons to justify his thinking,
Where fair skin is fairer than dark skin,
Where black is more beautiful than white,
Where royal blood is better than common blood
And where status is governed by money.
When you find beauty in the paddy fields of Bihar,
The mighty Brahmaputra in Assam,
The glittering dew drops on grass,
Poets who have revolutionized
The architecture of poetry,
Great mathematicians like Archimedes,
Copernicius, Socrates who were philosophers
Par excellence and shook man’s thinking,
Man finds beauty in glittering gold,
The fashionable shoes and clothes,
The jingling coins, the bundles of notes,
Big-breasted women with neither substance
Nor a touch of spirituality,
Laughing in a morally disorganized civilization.
O God, lead us to that way, that path,
Where men blossom like flowers,
Where the garden is the same
Though the colors of flowers many
And your logic is man’s logic.