In the midst of twilight,
I found them!
Stained and pathetic-
Yes! those envelope of gray shape.
Which were hiding,
Heartily laughter,
Which once got buried into-
Fragmented and unheard wails.

In those shattered letters,
Lie the deep sound of pain and tears,
And Fume of flesh and fear,
Which once was grounded-
To escape
That detrimental howl of battle.
That air of blood.
Of that terrific time.
Of those silent days.

Those red smears, painted
Immensely on its yellow inch
Oh! those alphabets,
Dictating  mysterious mishap,
The victory of its doughty saints
And curtain the naked smile,
Of those who were abandoned from dear to known!
For that is the cost of patriotism,
Which Escaped every eye.
Of those who were buried in the soil of unknown.
Their blood flooded the roots of that tree
The same tree which witnessed
The screech of thousands virgin
Million young blood.