I hate being a forced catholic,
Despite being a free Hindu.
Forced by my own,
Mother, father, wife and the other.
Coaxed into the confession box,
With the padre hearing my silent talk.
I have sinned, sinned I am a sinner.
I do not confess to wash off my linen.
Because padre you fail to see,
The sins are also a virtue in divinity.
Be they the smartest or the dumb of the scum,
Those who have sinned have broken paths hitherto unknown.
Else why would your folks, be they of what ever religion,
Poison Socrates, burn Joan, kill Copernicus,
Don't they understand they stand on the shoulders,
Of most mundane sinners?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem