Anguish of a Revolutionary Poet

My poems will never narrate my story,

My lament will not echo in any a casual line,

My poetry does not trade woes of the feeble,

Nor is it lewd fetish of the impotent mind.

Isnt a narcissists decree of universal love,

Or timid offerings of the frail at powers shrine.

Towards a peoples sky, those that pull

The fire-chariot of humankind are comrades of mine.

I cant be traced in my poem; there my limits

Blend into infinity of the myriad -

With flood-waters from without I have unbounded

The stagnant swamp sluggished by poison-mud.

My pain will not linger like a spirit in the graveyard,

I am a reckless droplet, oceans fervour in my heart.

-- Translation: Kasturi