( I )
It is no more a festival of lights I found
It is a pandemonium of deafening sounds
It is no more a joyous occasion to wait
It is an unavoidable, expensive plight ;
No more do we aspire for shooting stars
Our purse is burnt too much with scars ;
No time to invite and honor our in-laws
Behind our mirth there lurks a pinching loss ;
The rich may rave and sound their joys to the skies
The poor man's hut in darkness lies ;
( I I )
When every heart is lit with mercy and wisdom
When earth becomes a heavenly kingdom
When every hut and hamlet smiles with delight
When every man respects others' true rights
When every house is free from habits vile
When every heart is free from hatred and guile
Then the real festive glow in true spirit I find
In every eye and heart and mind ;
Till then this is but a poor pantomime
A flashy show of lights without reason or rhyme.
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1st November, 2016 Somaseshu Gutala
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