He came running, panted with a cry
With stammer faint words, lips so dry
For he, used to go to graveyard to confess,
‘Forgive my lord, this world; a game of chess’
Acted like a Pawn, a rook, and a minister
A bishop, a horse and a King, ’ the sinister’
Before I saw, He heard a cry from the grave
“Whole life I strangled virtue and vice and helped
My whole family shared with me, ask my son”
He will have his own reward, he will see the fun
For I, never denied, you requested, didn’t have?
Wouldn’t thou keepeth the sense that I gave
Beware O! The man, stood there, listens carefully
A man is what he sought to be, I Commanded blissfully
After seven years, I met with him, in a congregation
Feeding to the poor, a priest of hope and salvation
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem