POEM: A pigeon is lamenting

Come with me to the war field,
Ah! See the scenes of the dark knowledge,
Bornout of the mortal frowning.
Brothers and friends, mothers and sisters,
Relations and creations, fowls and animals,
All are wallowing and fidgeting
Before the threatening eyeballs of cannons,
Oh! Listen! The report of the gun boomed,
And thousands of smiles stopped forever.
In the loveless derelict tower
How a helpless pigeon is lamenting!

Come with me to the war-turned desert,
Ah! See the broken haunches of civilization,
Look into the clear well of heart where
Love is in death-throes at the stroke of bayonet.
Oh! Listen to the heart again-
Beats are turned into shots and reports
Where the most woeful tales of ruins are woven!
How power of mind is disappointed at a tiny bullet!
Trembling hands are groping for the last torn arts,
Sitting on the broken pole of the flag
How an awe-stricken pigeon is lamenting!

Come with me to the war field,
Ah! Gaze at the ugly results of the warlords,
Beauty cries in a pool of blood,
Pollen of flowers are reduced to ashes,
The balance of scale ever falls down,
The conscious gathering grows to be
A confused, crazy and hopeless multitude
A defaced land of waste has eaten up the greens,
Poetic justice is utterly beaten,
In the terrible moonlit night.