The wind passing by me,
Has blood smell with cries,
By and by I open my eyes and see,
Wounded humanity before me lies,
In the lap of Buddha her head she keeps,
Seeing her misery, he himself weeps.
The Last Mughal comes to him in white attire,
Speaks softly having tears in his eyes,
'Who has disturbed me by putting fire?
Why hurt humanity in thy lap lies?
Brought me here from India for final rest,
I've been given for her the sacrificing test.'
'Anger is the foe of peace and brain,
It has put fire that forced thee arise,
I have come to heal my daughter again, '
Buddha speaks having tears in hiseyes,
'They are not mine but wild criminal indeed,
They will have to pay someday for their deed.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Indeed a heat rendering poem, , , scene has beautifully drawn by yours, s artistic & crafty mind...well done