Poor Italy So Sick & Ailing, My Lord! (Laden With The Virus) Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

Italy,
Italy in trouble,
I can see it,
But why do they not send
Their medical teams
As for suffering mankind,
Ca they not came forward
To help Italy
In trouble?

The virus has spread,
Patients lie in numbers
Attended, unattended,
Houses taking a deserted look,
Hospitals full with,
Beds are difficult to find,
Many dying at home
And even the dead
Lying unvisited, unattended.

O Lord, where are You,
Have pity, have pity
Upon them,
Have, have mercy,
Upon them, my Lord,
My Lord,
Have, have on them
The poor souls
In distress!

Death,
Such a death,
Death in isolation,
You do not, do not
Give, give it to anyone,
To anyone, my Lord,
Lord,
Such a, such a death,
A death to anyone!

The dead bodies lying for
Day after day,
None to take,
None to lift and take,
Take and dispose off,
Hospital staff ill and fatigued,
Funeral-doers too sick with,
My God, God,
See you, see You at least
And bail out poor Italy in trouble?