O white bearded old man but a heart sick,
A tattered hat upon a head thick,
Soul cries and sings Islam fanatic,
Every pervert painting tells immoral mist.
Dark spots on old man’s sleeves,
In all the colors, spreads stinking leaves,
Colour foul drove away the national peace,
Ran away from the holy land and to world deceive.
Down the wrinkled cheek lies the shadow greed,
With years of lusty thoughts he feed,
Hardly learnt any thing from grey haired,
And mind has known all art of hatred.
Old man loved injustice and wrong enjoyed,
Cashed with grey hairs good he scorned,
Self mastered in propaganda and duping world,
The region hot of fanatics he loved.
Span an unholy web round him dry,
Closed mind and played tricks with poisoned eyes,
For lust in him to women fed but they foul cry,
And enjoyed honey in land high.
Always jumps at fair sex like butterflies,
And strayed around Bollywood rise,
Fried them like mutton pies,
And auctioned them where Stannic Street lies.
Self exiled, mindful to match the past glad,
Met beneficial angels on a tiny land,
Enjoyed exile deal but feigned sad,
No sorrow but all pleasure in alien sand.
I sell those to secular traders and grease,
Delivered pain, sorrow and enjoyed clandestine practice,
And that the business, I bake my cheese,
Secular stink, gives me lease.
DR. YOGESH SHARMA
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.