The Great Indian Soul Poem by venkata lakshmi narasimharao

The Great Indian Soul



I am not a heap of dry grass
To be burnt by a match stick
I am the great Indian soul
Which is as stupendous
And beautiful as the snow capped
Silvery Himalayas which have
Stood the test of time
And imperishable, indestructible
Indescribable but admirable
But never to be conquered

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