Deep inside the man, stays his fate
To shape his future, fast or late;
Unknown to Lenin and Laden, or to me:
Had they any idea about thee.
Unknown to them, as to their gun;
If this not their lot, why did they run?
He plays, provokes, tricks, fears, in world fair;
With kings, generals and maulvis sitting duck in chair.
Mighty nations, lap not this pear;
Chasing time, till last to bear:
Through dust and fear, till last all labored:
Into the designs, appear lighted.
Opens the knot, impossible;
Shapes destiny like teacher visible,
Remains unperturbed in the night,
Never whimpers, in the bright.
But in some seers, foresight rests;
Soul s great, Lord creates;
Fate is a gift beautiful, tells intangible:
To senses invisible to let smile.
FROM:
DR. YOGESH SHARMA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem