The horizon is not beyond our ken,

It had been far but the road is at the ambit.

The waves that roared by you have reached their purview

And the tides that eddied to the shore can’t move beyond the hem.


You thought you have the whip hand and refute its skirt;

You maimed our men, decried our girls and cloaked us;

You lied about your spirits and thought you own the gods;

But it’s time to tell you that our sally with you has no orbit ahead

For the task assigned to you never matured.


And your arrogance infatuates our imagination;

So fold your mats and let us pave a better path

For the journey you lead was a deceptive, steep slope,

Yet you glued to it as if it’s an endless purlieu.