Sipped he, music with his mother’s milk
Mum and music notes; he liked alike
His playful childhood he toddled over bands
Of fiddles and keyboard glockenspiel
Stood at last as a proud victor
On the world-pedestal of original score
Hoisting Indian genius and glory high in skies
Flaunting and fluttering in tri-color pride and
Free flying doves of dreams that came true
Carrying on his shoulders double Oscars
Walking in style, he, on the musical road he paved
Vanguarding millions of Indian youth
Shouting ‘Jayaho’, ‘Jayaho’; Praying
‘Maa thujhe salaam’, Ma thujhe salaam
Bowing to Mother India as a worthy son
Offering his supreme win in lovely psalms
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem