My Damnation Poem by Mohammad Mohi Uddin

I'm presented here with a lot of curses taking place in my heart today.

I'm the spiritual son of soil.
My ancestors used to wave hands on the horse's body instead of straps.
Knowing the destructive behavior of the bank, they reposed goldy domestic life nearest the river.
Off and on, they used to send whole feasible viands to the foe's tent.
Making ink with them shoreless forgiveness, I've written today's damnation.

I imprecate- into the lap of the map with the chalk of the Earth's dust.
I curse- adorning the reddish color of Caesalpinia-pulcherrima.
I execrate - sitting on the Nakshi Khanta of a maiden.
I damn- laying on the seductive fondness of alluvial soil.

My raised neck of damnation is alike the neck of Giraffe, today.
Touching milch of cow, touching the ascetic scythe of farmers,
Bringing out the innocent tone of the Shepherds, taking the plate of Rice with Milk,
With the oath of mother's oar, with the cognition of the Independence-
Thrilling the glaring of today's damnation!

I'm writing the Placard;
I curse -
For the offense of driving my young generation away on the devious Path,
For using my newish generation as the shield of Power,
For the crime of generating the future of my green generation into a fireplace.

The juvenile who vibrated 1952 - 1971 with bloom,
Tell, what reward will you gift them? Is there any exchange price?

The younkers who could be revived as 52 or 71 today,
You've been generating them into shorn Bonsai and made them Joyful.

Yes, I do believe in Johnson - 'Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.'