Living again, at the edge of life by the pouring rain
Gripping the foot and mind, on a slippery plain.
Burning it down, the leaves of all hopes, by the morning Sun
Live on the edge of life- was the call of the gun
The thin line between love and hate
Divided the rule for deeds and fate.
When the wrong went right and the right went wrong
There were no lyrics for a song.
And all they could do was
Scream with the multitude
Showing biased attitudes
Scaring the very sanity of man
Imposing on him a total ban.
Then he drank and he drank
The poison and venom of his think tank,
To find, as a rule, he had to live and give
Himself.. like a slave of motives.
With a master's world and a whip of desire
Stinging into him like a fang of fire-
When he screamed with the multitude,
Throwing a mask on his attitudes
He knew he was now insane within
A momentary lapse of reasoning..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem