Don’t slaughter the innocent of Chittor,
Oh! Akbar the Great,
Of brutality and barbarism.
Ending the light of thirty thousand lives,
Deceitful Hindus, with divided nationality.
Makes thee a victor,
Thou thinkest by slaying the innocent,
To control the sky.
Thou hadst thirty four ill fated wives,
And five thousand concubines,
In thy own brothel.
The debase married motherly Salima
Aging wife of,
But thou needed the ‘mysterious blessing’;
Of a Fakir,
To father a rogue son,
Questioning king’s manliness.
Who never honored thy proginator,
Perhaps knowing about the ‘black magic’
Of thy birth.
Revolted thy own seed, against thou misdeeds.
Thou embraced Deen-E-Ellahi,
And renouncing Islam,
Under the influence of a Hindu queen.
And made people chant,
Allah ho Akbar,
Or God is Akbar,
To declare thyself Almighty.
Failed, forlorn and frustrated,
Dealers of secular sect;
Canonized the tyrant,
Akbar The Great.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem