In city streets where lively shadows play -
and the neon lights paint night and day.
Millions of souls with their dreams alight,
burns through and through the urban night.
Each morning's rush, the ganges flows,
through concrete canyons the traffic grows.
In this mad rush though, a beauty gleams -
the silent strength of hopeful dreams.
The commoner's struggle wears a gilded face,
in this relentless, unforgiving crowded space.
It shapes the spirit, builds their steel will,
the strength to survive grows, one can feel.
It's tea shops open at break of dawn,
where the weary workers carry on.
It's metro rides and the crowded trains,
are the life-blood of the city's veins.
Through office towers, streets and parks,
it keeps igniting hope's eternal sparks.
Their dreams don't sleep on velvety bed,
but wake with crown of struggles on their head.
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