What gory deaths by fire, we see today!
Gone is ‘sati’ but brides burn still by stove;
In accidents too, people die this way;
Self-immolate, some people out of love!
Air-crash victims get burnt like wood and hay;
Bomb-blasts produces smell of burning flesh;
Bus burns with men in pugilistic way!
And nuclear accidents too happen fresh.
A cracker-unit burns its children down;
A Temple-fire engulfs so many souls;
Some men are dowsed, lit live in a big town;
Fire-extinguishers have but scarcer roles.
’Tis strange to see why people burn alive!
What kind of pleasure, Satans such derive?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem