Cover mine eyes, or snatch their sight,
Mine eyes that are weary of carnage!
And plug my ears with molten zinc,
Mine ears that are weary of shrieks and screams,
My soul is screaming with pain like a bab,
Wounded and bruised under a wild stampede,
Or a flower that is smitten with acidic rain,
O shelter my soul from the gory mob,
Killing and lynching in the name of dharma!
Mykoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem