Goodbye rotating world, I am going to my creator.
You are neither my pal nor my liberator.
Tossed through the mad crowd I frown,
Long has been shunted like defeated crown.
But now goodbye to fame and flattery,
To false pomp, show and treachery,
To the splendor of gold’s corrupted eye,
To chase of the crown mighty and high,
To false relationship and altered love calls,
To crying hearts and bleedings halls,
Goodbye rotating world, I am going to my creator.
I am flying to happy land with my master,
Where magical roots plan frolic lives.
Proud green hills in happy isles,
Where wounded feet have never land.
Every inch is pure to thoughts and hand,
Reside in a safe celestial abode,
Under the blessings of merciful god,
Echoed with me the celestial chant,
Moon, stars galaxy and wind rent.
Goodbye rotating world, I am going to my creator.
When I am rested on farewell pyre platter,
I smile at the pride and madness of man,
At the confused school and beguiling clan,
For what is your existence in this mad tower?
Where man is in a bush unaware of his master,
But in this confused web and silent nights,
Lost in funerals and sad sights.
I listened my master spoke last night,
To forget the curse designed for man white.
FROM:
DR. YOGESH SHARMA
Dr. Yogesh Sharma
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/forget-the-curse/
