Everywhere I find the Raj of violence,
Honesty has surrendered to treachery.
The Simple suffer and the crafty crowned,
The sun of virtues eclipsed by sinny clouds.
The helpless cry drying eyes, but lo!
God is Resting at Home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
God is resting at home, true sir.