Of all the plights that ensnared me, the Dungeon was the worst,
For so vile it was to rout those who to scale its walls durst.
Enchained was I within its darkness, with myriads along;
"Succumb, despair; turn glum, forbear! " was the fetters' song.
An ostensible thought: the only way out was the open top—
But these fateful odious walls would strive to you stop.
Even if you splinter the manacles of rigid popular views,
By walking down your own path, yenning to be a muse,
The bestial savage crude walls are bewitched with something unexplained
That would ensnarl anyone who climbed it, being callow and untrained.
For these walls of worldly wants and public expectations are life's trammels
Which cudgel you to forge ahead only through temporal, limitless channels.
I sought the ampler boundless canvas that stretched beyond,
So I broke my shackles and climbed the walls, but it finally upon me dawned.
A fool's errand it proved to be: as distant was liberty as before.
Once an expectation was fulfilled by me, the expectant walls heightened more and more.
No sooner had I accomplished a forced goal than another knocked on my door.
Was there no way to traverse these walls and ascend to gloriously soar?
This is the Dungeon of Life, the creational folly of the people galore,
Those who sprouted deific wings and escaped are now of the lore.
In past tense is this exposition, not without a reason though—
Festooned with hoary wings, fulgent in a divine glow,
I winged towards the cosmic welkin, free of tether:
And ever since been loving both the ether and nether!
This much depth of thought no one of your age can have. So I dismiss your 'claim' that you are a teenager. So please try not to create that illusion. Please excuse me! Your thought process is in line with that of a mature poet!
Ma'am, with due respect, I have to say that I am indeed a teenager born in 2004. But I'm happy that you acknowledge my thought process.
Man is overridden by aspirations. Once we fulfill one aspiration, a bigger one comes before us and we struggle to achieve it. We are ever haunted by such aspirations and we end up with frayed nerves, never satisfied. The world also drives us crazy by dragging us to move along the grooves they cut. As a result man finds himself in tethers all the time.
WithOnce an expectation was fulfilled by me, the expectant walls heightened more and more. No sooner had I accomplished a forced goal than another knocked on my door. Was there no way to traverse these walls and ascend to gloriously soar? This is one of the sad predicaments of everyone born to this world. We are chained down in a dungeon either one of our own make or one created by others.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
FOR A YOUTH OF YOUR AGE BORN IN 2004 AS YOU SAY YOU HAVE THE COMMAND OVER THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE WHICH IS NOT YOUR MOTHER TONGUE APPARENTLY IT DEPICTS A MIND OF MATURITY AS THE CHAR CHINAR WHERE YOU LIVE LOVELY POETRY ONE INCLUDING ME CAN ONLY BOW TO A POET AS MATURE YOUNG AS ARE YE VS