He sat almost lifeless,
Thinking of his surroundings,
Free from the sinful thoughts
He carried due to his occupation,
He was a hangman,
By profession, living
Out of the hangings
He carried out for the law
Of the land he was born,
Many a times torturing
His mind of the thoughts
Of the writhing boides
He hung, most ly at night
Or the early morning,
Worrying about his sins
He felt he commtted
For himself and family,
For both the ends to meet,
Now that he retired,
Many a time he felt
The free air, the suffocation
Of a night before a hanging
Lost at last, but with dreams
Of many a past hanging,
To wake up to find
That he is free of his duties nomore.
Ravikiran Arakkal.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem