Rime Of A Patriot Poem by Dr. Yogesh Sharma

A pain in the heart, a fire in my heels,
I am sick of lofty talks and rumbling wagon-wheels;
People dying of hunger, pain un-limited of this land,
Here wild, old tyrants shout with their band.

Oh no body hear the noises of the street,
Where millions foot marching together on the sheet;
To a windy, tossing police dread to stop the ride,
Oh I will be going, going, not fearing tide.

And first I'll hear the hungry -wind, not the mewing of the king,
The clucking, sucking of the blood about the dusty wings,
The songs of the king at the hooter threaten out,
And then the heart of me will know I am there or thereabout.

Oh I am tired of hunger and want, the heart of me is sick,
For dull green, sad Jamuna, the realm of ugly Dick;
And I'll be going, going, un-fazed of roaring of the wheels,
For a pain my heart and fire in my heels.