Never I wake from bed.
Nor I be mystic mad.
Hearing the church gong,
‘Bible’ from Godfather’s tongue.
Where people come for peace,
Away from homely bliss.
Listen the story of Jesus’ sacrifice.
Never I worship in temple.
Nor I be any saint’s disciple.
Seeing the holy golden idol,
Glittering ‘Gita’ in light of candle.
Where is seen priest preaching,
About epics, devotees fasting,
And praying for something.
Never I join community prayer.
Nor I be mosque lover.
At sacred call of ‘Koran’,
Or sight of ‘Mohammad’-like man.
There one hugs another,
Scent of flowers all over,
Spirituality rules forever.
But bows my head down,
Before her love for only ‘Religion’,
Who loves to live for human.
Who devotes her life for human.
Irrespective of any nationalism,
Caste, creed and communism,
Never lasts her love for ‘Humanism’.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely write on Humanism. Bows my head down only for her- Humanism. Loved reading it.