These bright, golden, shimmering rays
Like the first hour of dawn, sparkling
Like the chirping of birds together
Like the fragrance of flowers in every hue
They awaken hope in the hearts
They arrive just as night departs
With the morning, the daybreak, the dawn
All these words may seem heard before
We, the dwellers of the night, have slept through
Is it sleep, unconsciousness, or intoxication?
This laziness, this joy—God knows what it is
A storm may have come, or some whirlwind
Whether Gautam, Nanak, Bhagat Singh, or Gandhi
No matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t uncover
The veils we have bound over our eyes
We are all addicted to the nights of history
It was only in the night that we found freedom
We only need to cover ourselves with a sheet
Whether silk, muslin, khaki, or cotton
Is this dark sheet a shroud, or some coffin?
Who knows where the sun has been buried
If it is lost, bring it back
If it is asleep, wake it up
If someone is unconscious, bring them to awareness
If someone has died, then burn them together
If it burns, perhaps some light will emerge
Perhaps there will be some upheaval in the world
You may have heard this story
Some mornings may have dawned this way too
Some mornings may have dawned this way too
Yes, some mornings may have dawned this way too
Yes, some mornings may have dawned this way too
These bright, golden, shimmering rays
Like the first hour of dawn, sparkling
Like the chirping of birds together
Like the fragrance of flowers in every hue
They awaken hope in the hearts
They arrive just as night departs
With the morning, the daybreak, the dawn
All these words may seem heard before
We, the dwellers of the night, have slept through