By If only the cascade of sweat changed the world,
The life of the porter would change then
If only it was the bloodshed;
The world of peasants would change, Dear Mansara!
O, Dear!
The gore and sweat change the world.
However, the world unchanged they,
Why has it unchanged, Mansara?
Have you ever heard the roaring fire, Mansara?
The log you cleave
While others set them fire on,
You won’t access your fire, Mansara!
The fireless you, the light won’t be yours,
The lightless won’t have her world changed, Mansara!
Have you ever heard the roaring fire, Mansara?
The fire is yet enouncing, Mansara!
The swidden land you yield in
While registered in another’s name
You won’t hold your soil, Mansara!
The soilless you, deprive the gutful grains
The deprived won’t have her world changed, Mansara!
Have you ever heard the roaring fire, Mansara?
The fire is yet enouncing, Mansara!
The firearm you wield,
While the other command
The sovereignty cannot be yours,
The subservient won’t have her world changed, Mansara!
Have you ever heard the roaring fire, Mansara?
The fire is yet enouncing, Mansara!
Heed to the voice of fire, Mansara!
