Two sick monarchs, one clown and a queen lone,
With no love for nation, but passion for crown round the head,
Always with plotting eyes and all greed;
Air wearied with men’s never ending moan.
For their deeds wrong, people has only to atone
Dreams in eyes devastated, with tears red;
Toiled with feet rugged on stones pointed;
Watching helplessly, moving on lifeless knees.
Seeing the plight, heart of the masses lit with flames;
I cried to trembling Bharat Mata, ’ who are these coned’?
With aching heart, knowing by name, she cried:
Sonia first, the second Rahul and last Man Mohan turbaned.
O! Pakistan, thanks to take Sania,
Pray again to take Man Mohan and Sonia.
FROM:
DR. YOGESH SHARMA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem