To my husband

Cycles, and cycles, and cycles

Early in the morning.

It’s time Bhilai’s people

To the plant are going.

They smile, they sign, they hurry,

The plant is their dearest baby.

They wish it to be the strongest

And the leading in the country, may be.

They know the plant’s people treasure.

They need it for life and freedom.

And they spare no pains

Here in Bhilai’s kingdom.

They do it for the county’s glory

For smiles, for songs, for yearnings

That is why there are so many cycles In the mornings