The year was '89 and the month was November
Far across the border, an event was to happen worth to remember!
As kids of his age wondered what to wear and whom to date,
He strode down the ground, ready to write his own fate!
The beginning wasn't easy as he would have thought it to be
The ball moved faster, quicker than the eye could see!
With a sweat-drenched shirt and a bloodied nose,
He handled everything with grace and a champion's pose!
Come London, come Sydney, he scored everywhere
The cover drive or the sweep, he played with disdain and little care!
Be it Akhtar or McGrath, Murali or Warne
He dominated them all and packed them to the barn!
Still there were a few who cut him low
And to worsen it more was the back strain and tennis elbow! !
But he rose like a Phoenix, proved his critics wrong
Sachin Tendulkar, if cricket is a Nightingale, you are its song! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem