The Sun Rises in the Western Sphere

The sun rises in the western sphere
and they all said the moon rise there,
where the savage danced their way so dear
for they don’t know sunset is near.

Some says the sun, when tomorrow’s come
but for the savage it’s the moon,
For it eclipse in the high noon,
and they don’t know the day’s undone!

Oh savage! Oh brute! And not my dream!
Cried she –the mistress from the west--
Helpless creatures! Chained, and Lost!
Lamented he back home –with a beam!

And they toil, and toil, not in vain,
for when the savage were in delirium
they said ‘saved –from death and doom!’
While quietly buried is the savage’ heirloom!

A century had passed now,
the savage still savage and in delusion,
For they lost their heads and illusion!
For they trot the path of emotion!

Like a peacock they try to sing;
Like a cuckoo they try to dance;
Like a penguin they try to fly;
Like the black crow, they tried in vain.

For they forget their golden skin,
their tail is the peacock’s tail,
their song is the cuckoos’,
and unique is them are as the penguin.

The day’s falling and the night is to come,
The sun’s gone and the moon is to dawn,
But the eclipse is yet to be undone,
and the silver lining is now drawn!

Time elapse in your sleep, poor savages,
For your hornbills are taken hostages
And your treasures rotting under the ruthless root
Feeding charmless creepers of no hue.