Life, today is damn complex,
To adults and youngsters alike.
Trust, having lost both wings,
Lands on undesired mudflats.
Love, creeps on wrong stems,
Who in fact are parasites lethal.
Belief, maimed by priestly hands,
Fumble in dense abyss of indecision.
Guardians, from kins or off, have,
only lusty intentions towards feeble preys!
Values, seems stricken by fungus malicious,
Peel off still shoots so tender.
Passions, offered in beguiling packs
To the innocents as anglers' prey to fish.
Revelations, suffocate, and get trampled
Between the imposters' interpretations.
Justice, being trialed, destined to annihilate
By those holy hostile homicides.
Maxims, color and texture-lost, fades off,
As an unheard swan song's lilt lingers in air.
Oh, Bards, Blessed, before your pens' last drop
Dries off, save this blind mass from their doom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So beautiful, I respect your divine inspiration. Our scriptures have sung of virtues since ages; but blindfolded mind does not trust them..