Complex and confused has been
the ultra-modernized life’s function.
Acute accident is seen
everywhere in junction.
Man has been devoid of human sense
that forms the life’s essence.
Life has been a bust of bribe
where the terrestrial ones deeply imbibe.
When pervades the heinous crime,
what should be the life’s rhyme?
Man loses his goal prime,
expels his humanity supreme,
stigmatizes the scriptures of mankind
merely for mundane pelf unkind,
forgets the glory of his forefather
and violates the dignity of mother.
No sanctity, no security, no sanity,
always sweeping away in vanity.
Turmoil, torture and terror,
strike, indiscipline and horror,
even for a layman or
for a powerful emperor.
In every trice
prevails the device of vice.
Of human limb, every piece
is measured with a price,
though priceless eternal.
Rare is the thing paternal or maternal.
Lust has been the goal life-long.
Lost has been the hymnal human song.
For the sustenance of human race,
Virtue verily survives by His grace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.