My hands tremble when sinful thoughts appear;
My body’s bathed in sweat when act’s over;
What guilt, remorse fills my heart, Oh dear!
My soul is in penitential fever.
My heart is grief-stricken when things go wrong,
And anger fills my mind when world’s at fault;
I feel like cursing men/ women for long;
If given chance, how well they somersault!
A sensitized heart/ mind are found in bards;
The world in which they live, has gone crazy;
Their emotions keep jumping like leopards;
Their life is most often misty/ hazy.
Whatever feels their heart, must become words,
To drive into the heads of human herds!
6-25-2001
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem