As I wander on my morning roam
In the fearsome stillness of the wee hours
I chance to hear the loudest moan
From an inmate in the asylum towers
Does he rebel against the wailings of the weak
Frustrated over the means to seek
Redress; the thinking mind schemes to wreak
Revenge against failure; the dullards stay meek
Does he vent his anguish and anger
Against a sister’s rape and murder
And give the clarion call to his brother
To wake up to mayhem and disorder
Does he over our moral decay wail
After his solo efforts to fight did fail
Or does he from his insular bias hail
His comrades who in stormy seas sail
Does he scream against the unequal law
Meted out to the lowly with least money glow
Of all basic human needs bereft
They are caught and jailed for petty theft
Does he in his uproar and agony idealize
Our tribe while sycophants strain to idolize
The dole giving rulers just to thrive
And the idealist is pushed into a cell to survive
Why I didn’t go insane is still a mystery
Time will solve this riddle by the history
Of my past turmoil and toil
That was borne with little burn or soil
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem