Many a times, knaves, plotted to kill;
To crush a life so handsome and fair,
Conspired with full might and drill,
And denied a soul with vision to rest here.
Many a times he kicked the demons out,
And on his brow, no tension let;
The nation knows with out any doubt,
That he will throw the vultures and no inlet.
I know, I am insane; ought not to tell:
The killers let him, to care for him self;
Narrated and soothed nation in a moving cell,
And never took uncivil help to save his delve.
But Oh! His harsh fate that would be!
As he was young- and fair too-
Killers demons roamed around-but could not see,
Indoctrinated a woman, with deadly blast to do.
This time, failed to beat the foul minds back;
In dark hour, killers’ will prevail;
And the killer bewitched the killer pack;
And blasted her for a dangerous mail.
And a blast, deadly dark and he got his last train;
All and sundry hared the thunder, louder roll;
I cried and cried and cursed my rain,
Oh God have mercy for the innocent soul.
FROM:
DR. YOGESH SHARMA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem