Thick snow and dense frost impede my homeward sight

In the twilight, as if in sorrow, I see a thousand trees hang down their heads.

Real criminals are those opposed to anti-imperialism fight,

From Caribbean to pacific, exiled spirits still mourn for the dead.

There are many consistent heroes and heroines struggling since days of past:

Freedom from state violence is a must!

In a dream, I’m in a home-bound vessel,

Since colonial days, how many martyrs have faded without trace?

‘Change, like death, is inevitable’;

at the shore, I’m come to pay the price.

Those who lead the country without the mandate of the people are our foes,

Let the proletariat up- rise with hidden daggers, guns and bent bows.


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