Here is a settlement.
Houses with red-tiled roofs,
gardens and lawns.
It is a laboratory to mold people…
Minds are being forged
in what sort of furnace?
Smiles on faces and poison in hearts,
no harmony between thought and action.
The same old customary drill is on.
Those calculating faces,
are going to change their masks and come out
singing the arati of my welcome.
I am satisfied that
I have sown the seeds
But here they have already started the preparations
for the resistance…
I am doubtful:
Will at least one seed sprout?
translated by and with some changes by .