When the corrupt politician
was shut behind the bars,
he roared in anger in a language
couched in figures and metaphors:
" From the cremains of my body,
one thousand of me will be erupting
to serve the cause of the people".
When this one robber single-handedly
looted the coffers of the State
and got graft for the jobs given to the poor,
the people reel in poverty
and the youths die untimely.
"How could this nation face
one thousand of his incarnates? "
This question made one of his followers
sleepless, and in a frenzied mood,
he slit his leader's throat
and cried aloud for his suicide,
saving the judges from the strains
of bending the laws to give him bail.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem