Umakant Randhir
A Poem
Flourishing on your head
The gold crown of high caste birth
wrought by yourself alone)
to the throne of unquestioned supremacy
you cleaved very hard
through centuries together
like a pale house lizard!
Extolling the ratiocinative maze
Of the shastras and puranas
Belching fumes of fulfillment
You drove in a chariot
Drawn by horses three
Extracting obsequious servility
Of the obsolescent century.
But the blinded centuries
Lying prostrate at your feet
Are burnt down to ashes
In the funeral pyre of time
Now, in this space age
Your intellectual vanity is bust
And your throne? There it lies
Pulverized into the dust.
Translated by H.V.Shintre
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