You were raised in the arms of the ocean
Playing by the feet of the mountain;
Blessed with loneliness, you noticed the waves embrace
And heard the stream say her prayer in absolute grace.
Nobody but you noticed the mountains grow,
And you alone could see the palm trees touch each others toe.
The sun and the moon told just you that they were married a long time ago.
You could see their sacrifice of being apart, so that they could help us all grow.
My Goan boy, you then grew up and were forced to look the other way,
Where fanatics were killing, sowing seeds of destruction in what they say.
Abusers don’t give a damn towards you, let alone acknowledge the soul of the oceans and the streams,
In a world where Mother Nature’s songs are overshadowed by human screams.
Tagore, why did they ever let you grow my Goan boy?
The darkness of mankind came after you and killed your joy.
I know you want to go back home, but would it be the same?
But the sincerity of life awaits you from where you came.
It’s never late to be pure again, my precious son;
You will overcome what you feel today. You have already won.