Bhangedi sahib,
Having taken bhang,
Says he that he has Shivaji’s buti,
A herbal paste
And having taken the pills
Or with sugar,
Goes he silly and nonsensical,
Saying the things of
The sub-conscious and the unconscious.
His mind getting lifted and lifted above
And he sailing through,
The mind rotating
And he feeling giddy not,
But getting lost and lost
To dwell apart,
One day willing not to return home too,
Telling the tales of the ghosts,
Smiling and going helplessly on the roads
Oblivious of it all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem