The situation: Few seconds prior to the author's Infosys Interview. The author was next in line and was waiting outside the interview room. The author's terror is being portrayed here....Scroll down and you'll feel it too.
I was alone on the dusty little bench
Its pegs trembling, under my iron clench.
The sky stayed gray, further clouding my mind
The earth stayed brown, further pacing my heart
The air was still yet the fauna were yelling
Nature, it seemed, was deciding my killing
I could see vague shapes floating around
Some tense smiles, some fast nods
I could feel them, I was tensed too
strained and depressed, I was next!
The water tank was busy; they were gulping
for the fith, tenth and umpteenth time.
I shook my head, my leg and felt around
Checking to make sure I hadn't melted anymore.
A flury of memories rushed past me
Like horror flicks shrieking and cursing.
I could hear screams and lashes
I saw myself burned in kilns and served with gins.
Out of blue, a black hand touched my shoulders
The evil executioner was beckoning me into hell
I have been called, my time was now
And I could clearly hear the axe being sharpened
With my life in my hand and my hand in my chest
I stepped through the gateway onto my life's fate......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem