In the deep vault of the strange castle
Of the mind, ensconces the conscience,
Entrusted with the task of equity-defence;
When whims whirl in the impulsive hassle
Of urges, allures and ill-ridden in the puzzle,
With crude, savage and eager impatience -
Pursue the forbidden things in vile dalliance
And overwhelm the super -ego in the tussle;
Faustus, for power sold his soul to the Devil,
As Jekyll did, only to end in damnation;
Lady Macbeth could not sweeten her hand
And rid of the guilt which did, in awe, spill
Invisible stigma on her hands, sans salvation,
A fissure in the soul, beyond all reprimand....!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem